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THE LONG TRAIL SERIES 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 
AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


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THE LONG TRAIL SERIES 


THE 

LONG TRAIL BOYS 

AND 

THE GRAY CLOAKS 

OR 

THE MYSTERY OF THE NIGHT RIDERS 


BY 

DALE WILKINS 

11 


ILLUSTRATED BY 

ELIZABETH PILSBRY 


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THE JOHN C. WINSTON COMPANY 

Chicago PHILADELPHIA Toronto 





Copyright 1923, by 
The John C. Winston Company 

PRINTED IN U. S. A. 


SEP 24 '23 


©C1A700016 


"H o { 


CONTENTS 


chapter page 

I. On tiie Adventure Road Again. 9 

II. A Baffling Acquaintance. 20 

III. At the Williams Camp. 33 

IV. A Pair of Plotters. 41 

V. Rough Treatment. 52 

VI. Tony to the Rescue. 61 

VII. Secret Eyes. 74 

VIII. Around the Campfire. 83 

IX. An Odd Fish. 102 

X. A Man Hunt. 116 

XI. “Hey, Starlight!”. 132 

XII. By Moonlight. 144 

XIII. The Bungalow in the Woods. 157 

XIV. Standing By. 169 

XV. The Attack. 186 

XVI. What Happened to the “Gay Gray 

Ginks”. 204 

XVII. Gam Fu’s Busy Day. 219 

XVIII. Starlight. 229 

XIX. In the Vultures’ Roost. 241 

XX. The Mystery Man. 249 

























CHAPTER I 


On the Adventure Road Again 

TE’RE here because we’re here, 

WW an< ^ here! That’s 

" * us. But what about Norton? 
Missing—one Nevada hermit.” 

Hal Brent’s searching glance swept the 
broad river dock and traveled inland beyond 
it to where the main street of the village of 
Natomah began. 

“No one in sight that looks like our bunch. 
This burg in the woods lacks three important 
persons—Norton, Craig and Davy,” he con¬ 
tinued, flat disappointment in his tones. 

“Oh, they’ve probably missed connections 
somehow. They’ll be along soon. Give ’em 
time; give ’em time,” Kent Sherwood said in 
his easy good-humored fashion. 

The big Columbia River steamer which had 
brought the four stalwart, sunburned young 
fellows now grouped on the dock to Natomah 
had disappeared around a curve in the broad 
stream. They stood on the all but deserted 
dock surrounded by a goodly array of luggage. 

(9) 



10 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


All were more or less concerned at the failure 
of their friends to meet them as had been 
promised. 

“Oh, gee, how I hate to wait! I can’t see 
hanging around doing nothing,” grumbled Hal 
after ten minutes of impatient waiting. “If 
that lost committee of three doesn’t come soon 
I move we hire a buzz buggy and start for the 
camp by our own little selves.” 

“Yes, and as soon as we are gone they will 
come. What then? Who will be here to say 
we have gone to the camp?” asked Antonio 
Yaldez, smiling at Hal’s impatience. 

“I don’t care to stay here forever. Suppose 
they don’t blow around until night? There’s a 
truck ’way up the street. Norton said in his 
letter they’d try to get hold of a light truck to 
come up here on account of our having such a 
bunch of traps. Maybe this is our speed.” 
Hal brightened. 

“That’s a one-man affair. Norton wrote 
that he and Craig and David would all be on 
the job to meet us,” Kent reminded. 

“Perhaps only one could come.” Antonio 
shaded his e}^es with a hand as he watched the 
approaching truck. “Adios!” He made a 
gesture of defeat as it turned into a side street. 
“We are not the lucky ones.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


11 


“Maybe a tire blew out. If it did I guess 
the three of them could slam on another. If 
we didn’t have all this junk fastened to us we 
could go out and see the town. Such a lovely 
place, and lively, too, I just want to tell you.” 
George Davis wagged his head toward the 
village with a mischievous grin. 

“We could find the camp all right enough.” 
Hal was still considering moving on. “It’s 
five miles south of Natomah, just off the main 
road. I doubt if there’s a gas wagon in this 
burg for hire. Nothing like seeing what we 
can do. Let’s go and take a squint at this 
humming hamlet. We’ll stick to the main 
street and keep the dock in sight. If we see 
anyone that looks like our folks heading for 
the dock, we can hot-foot it back here. I’m 
all done rubbering at the rushing river.” 

“Some river, just the same. It’s the biggest 
one I ever saw,” was George’s opinion. 

“Don’t let us tear you away from it. Go 
ahead; admire it some more,” Hal said teas- 
ingly. 

“Oh, I can bear the separation. I believe 
in sticking to the gang, unless they get too 
fresh. I’m valuable to anybody who treats 
me well. What about the lug—lug—luggage? 
I’m not crazy to go strolling with it. If we 


12 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


leave it behind, someone else may like to take 
it out walking/' 

“Oh, shucks! I forgot all about it." Hal 
eyed the luggage with disfavor. “We'd better 
go out and see the town, two at a time. You 
and George go ahead, Kent. When you come 
back Tony and I will do the boulevard." 

“You are to go along, all you three. I have 
no wish to see this place." Tony shrugged his 
indifference of the straggling village. 

“ Sure of that, Mejicano? " Hal laid a hand 
lightly on the Mexican boy’s shoulder. 

“Si,” said Tony with smiling emphasis. 

“It's a go, then. Take your word for it. 
Come on, gang. We'll drift back here before 
long, Tonums." 

“This, gentlemen, is the highest as well as 
the classiest building in Natomah," Hal 
pointed out five minutes later. The trio had 
stopped in front of a weather-beaten two- 
story building with a narrow front porch, the 
approach to it, a long flight of rickety wooden 
steps. 

“ It not only contains the post office, but the 
largest general junk emporium in our enter¬ 
prising little town." Kent took up the de¬ 
scription. 

“Exactly. If you hadn't said it, I was going 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 13 


to. Let’s help the burg along by patronizing 
their leading places of business. What’ll we 
buy?” Hal’s foot was already on the first 
step of the flight. 

“Oh, we might be able to rustle up a bunch 
of all-day suckers or a handful of pepper¬ 
mints,” was George’s encouraging opinion. 
“We’re safe in eating it if it isn’t over five 
years old.” 

“Not so worse for this neck of the woods,” 
Hal presently declared as the three left the 
store, each carrying a good-sized bag of sweets. 
“I’ve eaten candy at home that wasn’t as 
good as this. Well, on up the boulevard is our 
motto.” 

Readers of “The Long Trail Boys at Sweet 
Water Ranch” are already acquainted with 
Hal Brent, Kent Sherwood, George Davis and 
Antonio Valdez. It will be remembered how 
these four boys, in company with Hartwell 
Craig, a neighbor of the Brents, David Whit¬ 
ney, Craig’s young protege, and Gilbert Nor¬ 
ton, a noted western guide, spent a most event¬ 
ful summer in the Nevada mountains. Warned 
by Shy Beaver, a Navajo Indian, to keep away 
from the particular range of mountains they 
had set their hearts on exploring, the Long 
Trail Boys rode their ponies up the steeps to 


14 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


stirring adventures. The fact that David 
Whitney was the central figure in a mystery 
which his puzzled comrades could not solve, 
added to the strange happenings of the trip 
which ended in a most remarkable way in a 
secret valley, owned by White Shadow, a 
Yaqui chief, and his grandfather, Agunta. 

A year had rolled around since the Long 
Trail Boys had made that momentous expedi¬ 
tion into the Nevada wilds. Having now 
completed their freshman year at Yale, Hal 
and Kent were eager to take the trail again 
with their two comrades, George Davis, a 
western boy, and Tony Valdez, the young 
Mexican sheep man, long attached to Sweet 
Water Ranch, and a brother to Hal by loyalty 
and affection. 

This time the vast Oregon forests were to 
furnish them with a summer playground. Hal 
had planned the Oregon trip long before the 
Nevada expedition had ended. Now it but 
remained for the four eager young men to join 
forces with Hartwell Craig, Norton, the guide, 
and David Whitney, so that the new expedi¬ 
tion could take the trail through the big woods. 

Norton had already been in northern Oregon 
for a week making arrangements for the others 
and deciding on the route to be followed. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 15 


David and Mr. Craig had accompanied him 
there. Hal, in deference to his mother’s 
wishes, had remained at Sweet Water Ranch 
for two weeks after his return from Yale. 
Kent had accompanied him home from college 
and renewed his old friendship with Whirl¬ 
wind, the horse he loved. 

Now the Long Trail Boys were once more 
on the road to adventure and impatient to 
reach the Williams lumber camp, the point 
from where they were to make a start into the 
forest. 

“ Hanged if it doesn’t look as though Main 
Street, Center Street or whatever the name of 
this busy thoroughfare happens to be, ends in 
the high grass,” Hal said before they had 
walked very far. 

“There’s a turn in the road ahead.” Kent 
squinted wisely up the road. “Doesn’t look 
it, but it is so.” 

“Right you are, old star. So glad I brought 
you along! I was afraid we’d done the town 
before we started.” 

The uneven, dusty street ended where a 
fairly broad highway began. Shaded by a 
close fringe of small trees, it gave the appear¬ 
ance from a short distance off of ending in a 
piece of dense woodland which bordered the 
far side of the wader road. 


16 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“I’ll bet this is the road to the Williams,” 
Kent said. “There’s Natomah,” he pointed. 
“That’s south from Natomah. If we kept on 
going we might strike camp on our own.” 

“Have a heart! Do you want to leave 
Tonums alone all night on that lovely dock?” 

“Who said^anything about shaking Tony?” 
Kent made a playful pass at George. “My, 
but you do make foolish remarks!” 

“Squelched!” George hit the top of his 
own head a smart rap and pretended to 
collapse. 

“ Gee! It’s only a step from here right into 
the big woods!” Hal exclaimed, after they 
had walked along the highway for perhaps a 
quarter of a mile. They were half hopeful 
that they might meet the rest of their party on 
the road. “It looks great to me. Those pines 
are whoppers!” Hal drew in a deep breath 
of the still, pine-scented air. 

“What’s that I hear?” George suddenly 
struck an exaggerated pose in the middle of the 
road. “The plup-plup of a genuine gas wagon, 
and in the wilds! Can you beat it?” 

The purr of a motor sounded with startling 
distinctness on the quiet air. The three boys 
moved to one side of the road as an auto 
passed them. Its driver was the sole occupant 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 17 


of the car. He did not even glance at the boys 
as he drove by. 

“One civilized guy in this part of the coun¬ 
try. He drives like a sure enough sport/ ’ 
Hal’s keen eyes had instantly noted this. 

“A gas wagon’s no real sign of civilization. 
I’ll bet the Feegee Islanders own flivvers,” Kent 
said with a chuckle. “Emerald Valley’s about 
the only place the flivver hasn’t penetrated.” 

“Hm! If I made old Agunta a present of 
one, ten to one he’d be zipping around the 
valley in it inside of a week. Gee, I’d like to 
see that Yaqui rarity at the wheel!” Hal 
gleefully returned. 

The boys referred to the secret Nevada 
valley owned by the two Yaqui chiefs, White 
Shadow and Agunta, whose guests they had 
been while on their Nevada adventure. 

“Hope we pull off a bunch of adventures this 
year,” George said eagerly, his mind reverting 
to the fun and excitement of the previous 
summer. 

“I’d like ’em about forty strong.” Hal’s 
eyes gleamed. “I don’t want any of the gang 
to get lost or hurt; not that kind of excite¬ 
ment. But I want to see things move along 
with a snap. Just like that!” He struck his 
hands sharply together. 


18 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“ We’ll never run into another beautiful row 
like the one we waded into last summer.” 
George’s tone was boyishly regretful. 

“Yes, but, after all, the Indians stole our 
scrap before we had a chance to go to it, slam- 
bang. I hope we meet up with a bully old 
shindig all our own this time. Round up a 
bunch of bandits or some little pleasure like 
that,” was Hal’s ambitious reply. 

“You don’t want anything, do you?” This 
from Kent. “I’ll be satisfied with—let me 
see—some good hunting, seeing new things, 
riding over this big-tree country, and—” 

“Not for mine,” Hal began decidedly. 
“No such tame—” 

Crack! Above the boys’ voices a sharp, 
sinister sound had shattered the stillness 
around them. Crack, crack! 

“Shooting, and close by! Those shots 
came from around that bend, or my ears are 
no good. Come on! Something’s broken 
loose! ” Hal’s voice had risen to a shout. He 
started for the bend in the road on the run. 

At this point the highway deviated from a 
straight line into a dipping new-inoon curve. 
At the apex of this curve stood the roadster 
they had lately seen. More, it now formed 
the center of a struggle fierce and grim. 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


19 


“Hold-up! hold-up! Get in the game!” 
Hal yelled over his shoulder, making for the 
fray at a joyful gallop. “Come on, fellows! 
We’ll rush ’em.” 

Kent and George were not more than half a 
dozen steps behind Hal. As they drew close 
to the waylaid roadster they saw that it was 
being besieged by three masked men. A 
fourth lay at one side of the road, groaning 
loudly. Plainly one or more of the shots the 
boys had heard had taken effect. They had 
come from a thirty-two caliber revolver in the 
driver’s right hand. He fired two more bullets 
as the boys came up, though two of the bandits 
were trying to drag him from the seat of the 
machine. A third was dodging about the 
contestants, aiming to club the gritty motorist 
with a rifle without striking either of his 
confederates. 

“Hi-yi-ee-ya-ai-yi!” With an ear-piercing 
warwhoop, Hal charged upon the bandit who 
was brandishing the rifle. George and Kent 
flung themselves into the pitched battle waging 
between the motorist and the other twro high¬ 
waymen. What had been three against one 
was now changed to four against three. 


CHAPTER II 


A Baffling Acquaintance 

my meat!” Kent caught 
| one of the fellows about the waist. 

^ He gave the bandit a violent back¬ 
ward jerk which tore him completely from his 
quarry. He fought like a tiger to turn him¬ 
self about and clinch with Kent. Kent, how¬ 
ever, was unusually strong of arm and a good 
scrapper. He skilfully kept the other from 
taking hold, at the same time he was watching 
for a chance to put him out of the running. 
Fighting at such close quarters he could not 
manage to deliver a telling blow. Inch by 
inch he forced the bandit back until he had 
him where he could swing on him. He finally 
dealt his man a terrific clip on the jaw which 
promptly crumpled him in a heap in the dust. 

George had tackled the largest and heaviest 
of the three masks, a powerful fellow, very tall 
and wide of shoulder. Game to the limit, 
George unhesitatingly launched himself upon 
the big ruffian. The latter instantly let go 
the driver and whirled on George. He aimed 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 21 


a wicked blow at the boy, who dodged it 
adroitly, still pluckily maintaining the hold 
he had on the strong man’s left arm. The 
driver of the car now leaped out of it and came 
to George’s aid. The struggle raged between 
the trio for a couple of minutes. Suddenly 
the bandit by an excess of sheer brute strength 
broke himself free of both his antagonists and 
bolted for the woods. 

George started in hot pursuit. 

“Hey, there! Come back! Come back!” 
The motorist’s voice rose to an imperative 
bellow on the last words. 

George came to a reluctant halt at the edge 
of the woods. Slowly he re-crossed the road, 
his face showing his chagrin. 

“I didn’t have half a chance at that husky 
or he’d not have tossed me off so fast,” he 
called out rather ungraciously. “I wanted to 
go after him and land him.” George w r as 
feeling very sore and silly at the bandit’s get¬ 
away and his own easy defeat. 

“Don’t get sore. I knew what I was doing 
when I called you back. He’d have led you 
along into the woods and then turned and 
handed you a big dose of lead. You couldn’t 
have downed him at a clinch, either. He was 
stronger and tougher than the other three put 
together.” 


22 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


As he talked the stranger kept up a brisk 
rubbing of his throat. The soft collar of his 
striped silk outing shirt had been torn away. 
The front of the shirt hung in ribbons. Im¬ 
prints of his late antagonist's savage fingers 
stood out plainly on his strong white throat. 

“See what your friend did to me," he con¬ 
tinued, lightly indicating the dark, purplish 
marks. “I'd have fought myself clear of them 
if it hadn't been for him. I winged one as they 
came at me. They sw T armed my machine 
from both sides of the road. I tried to run 'em 
down, but the big one jumped and grabbed the 
wheel. Then he lit into me. I was in deep 
when you chaps came up; that's no dream. 
I certainly thank you boys. Well, it's not the 
first time I've been held up, and I'm still alive 
to say it." His strong features broke into a 
smile. 

“Oh, you're welcome," Hal was quick to 
say. “Much obliged to you for furnishing us 
with some excitement." 

“Looks like a scene from a movie, doesn't 
it?" Kent said with a laugh. 

“ It happens out here right along. It's been 
getting worse in the last year, too." The 
stranger's jaws set with sudden sternness. 
Now standing beside the roadster he was close 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 23 


to six feet in height. His soft, wide-brimmed 
black felt hat had been knocked off in the 
fight. His heavy dark hair was plentifully 
streaked with gray, though the face under it 
was round and youthful in contour. It was 
at peculiar variance with his hair. His fea¬ 
tures were strong and pleasingly regular and 
his eyes large, gray and very bright. He gave 
the impression of being always on the alert. 

“Here, pardner,” he now called to Hal, 
“Til help you with that galoot, right off the 
bat.” Lifting the driver’s seat he drew up 
from the compartment underneath a coil of 
thin tough rope. “This comes in handy. No 
trusting these bad men untied.” Hal had 
downed his man and was sitting on him. 

He reached Hal in three or four lithe steps. 
“You’re excused,” he said humorously. 
“Climb off his chest and take my gun.” He 
handed Hal his revolver. 

“Boost yourself!” he said to the bandit. 
“Up with your hands!” 

The swift change of tone was startling. It 
carried a biting sternness warranted to compel 
obedience. George now understood why he 
had so readily obeyed the magnetic stranger. 
The bandit was not slow to comply, though he 
muttered sullenly. 


24 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“On your feet!” The stranger reached 
down, caught the fellow by the collar of his 
gray flannel shirt and jerked him to his feet. 
“Hands behind you. Move lively. Keep 
him covered, pardner,” to Hal. “He’s a 
tough mutt.” 

In a twinkling the stranger had the bandit 
securely tied. Next he ripped the mask from 
the fellow’s face with an energetic contempt. 

“Leave me my face, canTcha?” snarled the 
bandit. “I’ll get you for this!” 

“Too late. I got you first. Sure you may 
keep that ugly mug of yours. No one else 
wants it. You’ll not need it long.” 

“Y-a-a-a-a!” The other bared his fang 
teeth in a fresh snarl. “Whada you know 
about me? I know you, though.” 

His captor merely smiled. “Shut down, 
Red Pete. I’ve heard enough.” 

The ruffian shut his mouth on a half-uttered 
curse and stared in fear at the motorist. He 
did not speak again; glowered in black silence. 
The wind had been taken out of his sails. 

“You handed this one a jolt.” The stranger 
w^as now stooping over the man Kent had 
knocked out. “He’s just coming out of it.” 
He removed the unconscious man’s mask; 
thoughtfully scrutinized the full, pasty face 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 25 


with its broad nose and wide mouth. “ Never 
saw this one before,” he murmured half to 
himself. “ A new one in these parts, maybe.” 
He proceeded quickly to rope the groggy 
prisoner. 

“I’ll ask you to help me get these choice 
specimens into my car.” He turned to the 
boys who had drawn up behind him. “It’s 
back to Natomah for me. They’re aching for 
jail. Natomah is the county seat. There’s a 
cooler. This fellow can sit front with me; the 
other two in the back. I may have to make a 
second trip if the one I winged is in bad shape. 
He’s throwing a fit over there. If I have to 
come back for him, I’ll ask you boys to stand 
guard while I run in these two.” 

“ Glad to do what we can to help you,” Hal 
said warmly. “ This kind of fun suits us. We 
were out killing time, anyway. We can’t 
move on until the rest of our party gets into 
Natomah. We’re at your service.” 

“Much obliged. Mighty clever in you.” 
The stranger bundled the still groggy bandit 
onto the front seat of the roadster. Next he 
began a hurried but not ungentle examination 
of the wounded one. The man lay on his 
back at the edge of the road still groaning 
loudly. 


26 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Are you so bad off as all that?” his captor 
said with mild sarcasm. “I’ve seen men shot 
up worse than you who didn’t open their 
heads. All you gathered was a flesh wound in 
your leg. That’s not much.” 

“Shut up!” roared the other. “Betcher 
life I’d have beat it if I coulda walked a step. 
You’da not got away with this if them fresh 
kids hadn’t butted in.” 

His mask half off, he snapped viciously at 
the hand that finished the removal of the strip 
of black cloth. 

“Same old hound, aren’t you, Prairie Lute,” 
the motorist said with an amused smile. He 
made short work of tying up the snapper. 

Over the hard, heavy features of the 
wounded ruffian drifted a look of malignant 
surprise. As in the case of his ally, he shut 
up very suddenly, quite overwhelmed at 
having been thus called out. 

George and Kent assisting, the man was 
lifted from the ground and set on the back seat 
of the car. Hal’s catch next rebelled when 
ordered to get into the roadster. Even in the 
face of Hal’s revolver he backed up against the 
side of the machine and tried to do battle with 
his feet. 

“None of that.” Hal coolly dropped the 


f 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 27 

gun into a coat pocket. Like lightning his 
right arm shot out. He gripped the other by 
the shirt collar and jerked him free of the car 
with a vigor which nearly upset his own 
balance. Between Hal and Kent the would- 
be kicker was boosted into the car. 

“I need a man to ride back and watch that 
pair,” began the stranger. “Will one—” 

“I'm your man,” Hal volunteered. “Oh, 
excuse me, fellows. I'm too previous. You 
go ahead, Kent, or you, George.” 

“No, we'll walk back to town. You go, 
Hal.” Kent knew that Hal's heart was set on 
the detail. 

“I'm no cop. Go as far as you like, Brent,” 
George said with his wide sunny smile. 

“You're a couple of princes.” Hal piled 

into the machine, letting down one of the small 

•> 

seats opposite the larger back one, so that he 
could face his glowering charges. “I'll meet 
you in front of the P. 0. Wait for me there,” 
he called as the machine started. 

“Say, this is a queer deal,” George broke 
out when he and Kent had walked a few steps 
along the road to Natomah. “We don’t 
know one blessed thing about the inside of 
this scrap. We jump in and help a fellow who 
seems to know all these robbers, then he 



28 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


whizzes off without saying why he knows ’em 
or anything else about the deal. Do you 
suppose he had a wad of money on him, or 
was this a spite hold-up, or what was it?” 

“Hard to say. This was a movie without 
an explanation.” Kent laughed. “We hadn’t 
had time to get as far as explanations. Trust 
Hal to find out about it. He’ll come back 
with the whole dope.” 

“This fellow they held up may be a sheriff. 
He called those two men Red Pete and Prairie 
Lute. He had their numbers. It knocked 
’em both a twister. He was queer-looking, 
wasn’t he? His face was round and young, 
but his hair was half gray. And that voice of 
his! It went right through a fellow.” 

“He certainly was a live wire. He worked 
like a streak, too. He was interesting. I’ll 
bet he’s been around the West. I suppose we 
won’t see him again.” Kent spoke regretfully. 

“Oh, we may. Norton says he’s hardly 
ever met a worth-while man on his travels that 
he hasn’t run across later.” 

As the roadster sped into Natomah Hal was 
thinking that he, also, would like a clearer 
understanding of the situation he and his 
chums had so unexpectedly stepped into. 
There had been no time for personalities. 
Neither side had even exchanged names. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 29 


The speed at which his companion drove 
brought them to the jail in quick time. It 
was a squat one-story affair of roughly 
matched stones, situated on a side street. 
The car had not stopped when the owner was 
out of it. 

“Stand by with the gun, pal/’ he directed. 
“I want to pen these swine before the village 
gets hep and runs here in a body.” 

This time none of the outlaws showed sign 
of resisting. Black looks were the only come¬ 
back of the two as they were hustled from the 
car. The wounded one was left until the 
stranger’s lusty call for a turnkey had brought 
a fat, sleepy-looking man to the jail door. 

“Is Granger here?” was the motorist’s terse 
question. 

“ Naw. He’s off on the Belston case. Home 
to-morrer, mebbe. Whatcha got there? ” The 
fat man woke up and looked curiously at his 
visitors. 

“Yeggs. Granger may not know them. I 
do.” For one brief instant the turnkey gazed 
at a small silver oblong which the stranger 
flipped back his coat to reveal. It was fast¬ 
ened inside, directly under the left lapel. 
“Did you get it?” He let the coat fall into 
place. 


30 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Yes, sir.” The turnkey’s indifferent tone 
turned to one of awed respect. 

“All right. One of these jacks I shot in the 
leg. Look after him first.” 

Part of this conversation Hal heard. His 
attention riveted on the prisoners, he lost the 
covert display of the silver oblong. He eyed 
the ill-favored yeggmen with an absent frown, 
wishing them out of the way so he could find 
out “a few things.” 

His wish was quickly fulfilled. With his 
usual dispatch the stranger briskly urged his 
captives into separate cells, spoke a few low- 
toned words to the turnkey, who had followed 
him to the door, and joined Hal, who had 
walked on to where the car stood. 

“All over, pal! We pulled off something, 
now didn’t we?” he said cheerily. “Wish you 
w T ere my side pardner, boy. You’d suit me. 
You’re right there with the goods. Now I 
must hit it up for the tall timbers. I’m away 
behind my schedule. I’ll drop you at the post 
office, if that will suit. It’s on my way.” 

“Just as you say.” Hal put on an air of 
indifference he did not feel. He was bitterly 
disappointed and rather hurt at being dropped 
so summarily. 

“I’m sorry, pardner.” The stranger’s keen 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


31 


eyes had not missed the swift shadowing of 
Hal’s merry features. “You think I’m un¬ 
grateful. I’m not; just the contrary. I 
haven’t time to tell you about this hold-up. 
I’ll only say that it was no ordinary wayside 
grab.” 

He motioned Hal into the car as he talked, 
sprang in after him and took the wheel. 

“Think I’ll forget what you boys did for me 
to-day?” he continued as the car started. 
“You’ll see me again, then—” 

“We’re on our way to the Williams lumber 
camp,” Hal interrupted. “From there we’re 
going on a long pony-riding trip through the 
woods.” 

“You don’t say!” A close observer would 
have noted a sly twinkle rise in the other’s 
eyes. “ Well, you won’t see me at the Wil¬ 
liams, that’s sure. But I won’t lose track of 
you, and— Here we are at the post office,” he 
said abruptly, as though glad of an oppor¬ 
tunity to change the subject. 

“Right-o. This is where I get the drop,” 
Hal said humorously. His gaze roved up and 
down the street as the machine slowed down 
for a stop. “ Don’t see the boys. By George! 
Here comes the whole gang with the truck!” 
He pointed up the street in the direction of the 


32 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


wharf. “ Stay long enough to meet my friends, 
can’t you, Mr. —?” Hal looked inquiringly 
at his companion. 

“ Sorry, pal, but I can’t.” The refusal held 
finality. Nor did the stranger supply his 
name. 

Hal slipped from the car without further 
remark. He was a little miffed and trying 
hard not to show it. 

“ Here’s my hand, pardner, and my friend¬ 
ship goes with it.” The man leaned out of the 
car, hand extended, his expression friendly. 
“Take it from me, we haven’t seen the last 
of each other. We’ll meet again up here, then , 
maybe I’ll be ready to spill a bag of beans I’m 
keeping shut up tight just now. Good-bye 
and good luck.” 


CHAPTER III 


At the Williams Camp 



EY there! What’s the matter with 
our friend that he beat it in such a 
rush?” called out Kent as David 
Whitney brought the red truck he was driving 
to a standstill almost in front of Hal. 

‘ ‘ Search me! He said he was in a hurry and 
vamosed. He’s the world’s great mystery. 
He’ll never tell who he is or what he’s up to. 
He handed me the dizzy shake. Ah, so glad 
to see you three gentlemen! Welcome to our 
city.” Hal was regarding the lost half of the 
outfit with an ever-widening grin. His brief 
sense of annoyance had taken wing. 

“Same old Hal.” Gilbert Norton, the 
guide, was on the ground and shaking Hal’s 
hand with great warmth. “It is good to see 
my comrades of the trail again.” 

“Good, is it? Well, you bet it’s a treat to 
see you and your friends here. Who did you 
say they were?” 

“He didn’t say.” Hartwell Craig had now 
landed beside Norton and was greeting his 

( 33 ) 


3 



34 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


young neighbor. “I own a ranch in Nevada. 
You may possibly have heard of me.” 

“I may have/’ Hal replied glibly, then 
laughed and shook hands with Craig again. 
“Who handed you a truck driver's license?" 
He reached a hand to David, still perched on 
the seat of the truck. 

“Oh, I picked it up in the road." David's 
somber features broke into a genial smile. All 
trace of the scowling sulienness which had once 
disfigured his handsome face had disappeared. 
He showed the happiness and contentment 
which a complete change of living had brought 
him. 

“A fine little josher, you are." Hal looked 
undisguised approval of the change in David. 

“Better that than be a grouch," David 
said. Both boys exchanged significant glances, 
then laughed. 

“Well, Brent, I was shocked to hear of you 
as on your way to jail," Craig said soberly. “ I 
see you didn't stay there long. Out on good 
behavior? " 

“I see you are a josher, too," Hal retorted. 
“No, you bet I didn’t stay long. That wasn't 
my fault. I was run out by our mysterious 
motorist." Hal went on to explain. “Glad 
now we had to wait for you fellows," he ended. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 35 


“We’d have been here on the dot, but we 
couldn’t get hold of a truck.” Norton 
frowned. “We put it up to the camp super- 
tendent three days ago. He promised us one 
and then backed down. Davy got this one 
from a man who was delivering some stuff to 
the camp. It was four o’clock when he landed 
it.” 

“That superintendent’s a frost,” David 
said, looking displeased. “He makes me 
tired. I hate to be around where he is.” 

“You won’t be long. We only want to use 
this camp as a starting point. There’s a good 
general store where we can stock up for the 
trip. I bought a fine lot of ponies of a horse 
trader—who deals only in specials. We’ll 
get busy and hold a meeting this evening after 
supper to find out what we want and how 
much.” 

“Supper, did you say? Lead me to it. I 
have a gay, brisk appetite. I stowed a fine 
cargo of eats aboard the good ship Hal at 
dinner. I hoped I’d absorbed enough to keep 
me well-nourished and happy. I could almost 
swear I’d not seen grub for a week; almost, 
but not quite.” 

“ There’s a good mess for the superintendent 
and the clerical force at the Williams. We 



36 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


eat there, by the courtesy of Mr. Williams, 
Craig’s friend.” 

“You can make up your mind it’s not by 
courtesy of that Neville, the superintendent,” 
David declared. “He wouldn’t lift a finger 
to be courteous.” 

“We’d best get under way,” Craig broke in 
energetically. “We’re now a complete outfit. 
It’s a short run to camp.” 

“Who wants to sit beside the driver? ” Hal 
was already climbing to that perch. “Don’t 
all speak at once. Not that it would do you 
any good.” 

“Go to it. The bottom of the truck’s good 
enough for me.” Kent had already seated 
himself on the floor of the truck. 

The truck was rather small and the Long 
Trail outfit filled it. Directed by the owner 
of the truck, Norton and his two companions 
had been glad to use a short cut to Natomah 
in order to make up for lost time. 

“Use the main road back to camp, Davy,” 
Norton advised his nephew. “I’ll tell you the 
way to go. That cattle trail we came over, 
driving to Natomah, was the limit.” 

Passing the place on the highway where the 
hold-up had occurred, David stopped the 
truck long enough for the three actors in the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 37 


recent excitement to jump out and show just 
where each stood and where the besieged 
roadster had been stationed. The rest of the 
way to camp little else was talked of. 

“I had about a million questions, more or 
less, that I was crazy to ask you fellows, but 
this hold-up business has knocked ’em silly,” 
Hal said as the truck stopped in front of a 
small house, half shack, half bungalow. It 
had once been painted dark green, but the 
green paint had worn off in spots, exposing 
a priming coat of dingy yellow. Hal hailed 
the place with his usual noisy acclamation and 
immediately named it “Polkadot Palace.” 

“You folks go on to supper. Don’t wait 
for me. I’ll be with you as soon as I’ve put 
away this truck. A lumberman who has a 
shack down the line here is going to put it up 
for me. The owner’ll call for it to-morrow. 
It won’t take me more than fifteen minutes to 
go and come. I’ll meet you at the mess 
shack.” With this explanation David started 
the truck. 

“I’m going to stick to you, old top,” Hal 
declared. 

The others, laden with baggage, went up the 
short path to their new quarters. The shack 
had formerly been occupied by three men of 


38 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


the Williams clerical force who had done their 
own housekeeping. The place was meagerly 
furnished, but answered the purpose as a 
temporary lodging. 

It was only a few minutes past six when 
they reached the door of the mess shack. Two 
men stood in front of the shack, talking busily. 
One of them was tall and rather heavily built, 
with a full, smooth face and very black hair 
and eyebrows. He turned a pair of unfathom¬ 
able black eyes on the newcomers and nodded 
carelessly to Craig. 

“Back, I see,” he said. “How did you 
make out about hauling your stuff?” The 
question was asked with indifference. 

“One of our boys managed to get hold of a 
truck,” Craig returned in his usual pleasant 
manner. “We were quite in luck, after all.” 

“So it appears.” The other's heavy brows 
lifted in surprise. “May I ask where he got 
it? I am sure it was not one of ours. We—er 
—had none free—” 

“You'll have to ask him the party's name. 
It wasn't one of your trucks.” Norton an¬ 
swered this time, and a trifle shortly. He 
resented the man's tone and manner. 

“Oh, it's immaterial.'' The superintendent 
dismissed the subject with a careless wave of 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 39 


the hand, as though it were too trivial for 
discussion. 

Something in the man’s gesture brought a 
flash of annoyance to Craig’s face also. 
'‘Blamed if I don’t agree with David about 
that fellow,” he said as they filed into the large 
beam-ceilinged room, set with half a dozen 
good sized tables. "He’s too patronizing to 
suit me.” 

"I don’t like that type of man. I’ve met a 
few such. ; They’re always snakish,” was 
Norton’s opinion. 

"We’ve been using that table,” Craig said 
to the boys and steered for an empty table 
near the door. Three of the other tables were 
occupied by emplo 3 r es, most of them young 
men between twenty-five and thirty. "There’s 
enough room here for the bunch. Well, it will 
seem good to eat again with the complete Long 
Trail outfit. Hope Hal and David get here 
pronto .” 

Hal and David Whitney were at that instant 
within a few steps of the mess shack. Neville, 
the superintendent, still stood outside. His 
companion had left him. His black e}^es 
narrowed just a little as he spied the two boys. 

"Where did you get that truck you used 
this afternoon?” he asked brusquely as the 
two came up the gravel path. 


40 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Not of the Williams Company,” was 
David's curt response. 

“I'm well aware of that. We had none—” 
“Somebody gave you the wrong informa¬ 
tion. I just found out that you had two not 
working this afternoon. It doesn't make any 
difference. We got what we wanted.” 

With this fling David passed on into the 
shack, Hal at his heels. 



CHAPTER IV 


A Pair of Plotters 

* * Y, but you are some snapper when 

you get your back up/’ Hal was 

-L. v ^ g r j nn i n g open appreciation of 
David's retort. “I used to think I could hand 
out a snap when I got good and sore, but, no, 
no—you win the medals." 

“I can’t go anybody I take a dislike to," 
David said, smiling a little at Hal’s nonsense. 
“Besides, that man acts as though I was about 
six years old. He’s spoken to me three or four 
times since we came here, and always in that 
tone." 

“He acted as though he was sore because 
you landed a truck after he turned you down," 
was Hal’s opinion. 

“He was sore." David spoke with empha¬ 
sis. “No reason for it, either. I’d hate to 
have to live around him very long. He’s not 
square." 

Hailed by their comrades, David said no 
more. Hal made a playful dive for the table 
and landed against George with a bang. 

( 41 ) 




42 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Go easy. Fm no stone wall,” George 
grumbled. 

“ Glad to hear it.” Hal joyfully seated him¬ 
self at table. “Saved!” he declared dramat¬ 
ically. “Ten minutes more and Fd have 
starved to death. Now just see who’s here!” 
A solemn-faced Chinese youth of perhaps nine¬ 
teen or twenty had shuffled up to them with a 
huge bowl of steaming vegetable soup. ‘ 1 Good 
work, Chum Sah!” 

“Me no Chum Sah. Me Gam Fu.” The 
boy gave a soft little snicker as he carefully 
set the bowl on the table and trotted off after 
plates and spoons. 

“All right, Gam Fu,” Hal began when he 
returned, “how are you? Glad to know r you 
by your right name.” 

“Me glad see you, ailee samee.” The 
China boy gave a funny little nod and shuffled 
kitchenward. 

The soup was soon followed by a large 
platter of boiled meat, flanked by big round 
dishes of boiled potatoes, rice and brown 
gravy. With fresh bread and good butter, 
puffy brown doughnuts and canned straw¬ 
berries the party feasted. The Long Trail 
Boys ate until they could eat no more, too 
hungry to do much talking. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


43 


“ Let’s beat it back to the shack/ 7 Hal said 
eagerly when they had finished eating. “It 
was a bully old supper. Now I’ve no more 
use for eats for a while. I’m all ears to hear 
what Norton has doped out for us.” 

“When shall we see the ponies?” Tony’s 
mind was on that part of the expedition. 
“Perhaps one will be a fiery broncho, the one 
Kent longs always to break,” he slyly added. 

“No such good luck as that,” Kent saidwdth 
a comical sigh. 

“No bronchs in this lot that need breaking,” 
Norton said with his brief smile. “These 
ponies are spirited, though; up to Silverheels 
and the others we had last year.” 

A united groan of disagreement rose. 

“Say not so,” Hal objected. “Silverheels 
is a pony among ponies. You won’t find his 
equal once in a blue moon.” 

“Nor Caro’s, nor Marvel’s, nor Blazer’s!” 
Kent, George and Tony each stood valiantly 
up for his pet pony. 

“Now I’ve raised a storm. Simmer down. 
I’ll let you stick to your favorites, but we’d 
better be moving along. We’ve a good deal to 
talk about before sleeping to-night. I want 
to turn in early, so as to be up and doing by 
five in the morning.” 


44 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Norton rose from the supper table. The 
others followed suit and the party sauntered 
back to their shack through a clear red sunset. 

“ It’s going to be a fine day to-morrow,” was 
Kent’s cheerful prediction. “A red sunset and 
not a cloud behind it.” 

“Hope we have a succession of fine days,” 
Norton said. “I like to start a trip in good 
weather. I don’t mind rain after I’ve been 
out a few days, but I hate it the first or second 
day on the trail.” 

“How about being out in a whanger of a 
wfind storm in the woods with the trees snap¬ 
ping all around you like pipe stems?” Hal 
asked. “That’s the kind of weather I like.” 

“Yes, how about it? I’ve been out in just 
that kind of a blow, and more than once,” the 
guide declared. “Try it; then you may not 
be so keen about it.” 

Returned to the shack, Norton cleared the 
oblong oak center table of a litter of magazines 
left there by the previous tenants. Then he 
unrolled a large map and spread it out upon 
the surface of the table. 

“This is as good a map of Oregon as I could 
find. Here’s the part of it that we’re inter¬ 
ested in.” The guide ran his index finger 
along the northern part of the state bounded 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 45 


by the Columbia River. “ We’ll follow the 
river trails for a little, then strike off south to 
the mountains. I've marked in our route with 
green ink. You can see plainly what it will be. 
Right here”—he indicated a point almost at 
the center of the green line he had drawn— 
“is a cabin, built of good heavy logs. It 
stands in the middle of a thick growth of pine, 
larch and oak. You’ll get the wilderness and 
lots of it right there.” 

“How far is the cabin from here?” Kent 
asked. 

“Between fifty and sixty miles.” 

“And the burros, Sehor Norton, how many 
are we to have? ” Tony still had an eye to the 
equine part of the outfit. 

“The man who sold me the ponies will get 
me four burros, if he can. Two I am sure of. 
If he can't secure two more, then—” 

“Either George and Kent, or George and 
Tony will have to get in line and do the burro 
act,” put in Hal. “They hung around with 
the burros last trip. They ought to get away 
with it. In that case, I'll agree to look after 
them and buzz 'em along their way.” 

This proposed arrangement raised a volume 
of protest from the trio Hal had airily named. 

“Now don't start anything more, Hal,” 


46 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


was Craig’s amused injunction, “or we won’t 
get down to cases to-night.” 

“I won’t.” Hal was still chuckling over 
the hub-bub he had raised. 

“ Go on with your route plans, Norton. I’ll 
take up the supplies question when you have 
finished.” 

Quiet once more restored, the guide went on 
with his plan of route, though often interrupt¬ 
ed by his lively listeners. 

“And will there be good hunting, Senor 
Norton? ” Tony was rather anxious this year 
for a chance to go bear hunting. All the bear- 
hunting honors had been Kent’s during the 
Nevada trip. 

“Very fair. Bears, lynxes, deer, wolverines 
and wolves. One of the lumberjacks told me 
more timber wolves than usual had been seen 
this year.” 

“Hooray! Maybe we’ll have a run-in with 
a bunch of wolves and get chased by ’em.” 
Hal was highly pleased with this prospect. 

“You are looking for trouble, aren’t you? 
Get a bunch of those varmints after you and 
you won’t feel so gay about it,” Norton said 
dryly. “It’s no ‘hooraying’ joke to race for 
your life with a pack of those critters behind 
you. They’re not much to be afraid of singly, 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 47 


but get a pack on your trail—you’d better be 
high in a tree with plenty of cartridges for 
your gun.” 

“ That means you’ve had experience. Hear 
that, Long Trailers. Gather around the 
campfire—table, I mean—and let Norton tell 
you a hair-raising, scalp-wiggling yarn about 
the time—” 

“ That time’ll be some other time.” Norton 
put a damper on Hal’s new spurt in the way of 
entertainment. “If we don’t wind up this 
planning for the outfit to-night we won’t be 
able to get out of here Friday morning.” 

“Oh, very well; some other time.” Hal 
cheerfully grinned his defeat and settled him¬ 
self for a little serious listening. 

“I’ll read n^ list of what we have with us 
up to date,” Hartwell Craig began when the 
guide was through talking. “Now,” he con¬ 
tinued, after he had read it out, “it is up to 
you boys to think of everything we may really 
need from the camp store. You know what 
we took in the w r ay of provisions last year. 
We’d better stick to about that programme 
this time. We’ll do our stocking-up to-mor¬ 
row morning. To-morrow afternoon we can 
go after the ponies and burros. To-day’s 
Tuesday. That will give us all day Thursday 





48 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


to get in shape for a start out at sun-up Friday 
morning.” 

After some discussion the outfit decided to 
turn in. All except Hal, who elected to go 
through his belongings in an impatient search 
for his precious talisman. 

“Say, Brent, that light is ruining my eyes,” 
George finally complained. “You’ve got that 
lamp right where I have to blink at it. Douse 
it and hit the hay.” 

“No, sir; not until I find my talisman,” Hal 
said firmly. “I’m going to feather out in it 
to-morrow. I’ll show these ginks up here that 
I’m not of the usual order when I get all decked 
out in that. Sorry about your eyesight, 
George, but—Oh, you talisman!” 

Hal pounced upon the odd silver scroll, 
which held three small feathers, red, white and 
green, and unclamped it from the front of his 
blue sweater. It had been given him by Shy 
Beaver as a good luck token. 

“Uh-h! Guess I won’t be without luck 
since you’ve turned up again.” He clamped 
the talisman to the lapel of his tweed coat. 
“Now, Mr. Davis, your eyesight is safe. It’s 
Hal for the hay, and no lingering.” 

Fifteen minutes later darkness and quiet 
had settled down on the little shack, unbroken 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 49 


save by an occasional mild snore from one or 
another of the Long Trail outfit. 

Over at the superintendent’s shack a light 
gleamed, though it was drawing toward mid¬ 
night and the rest of the camp lay in darkness. 
Seated at a table in the kitchen, the remains 
of a late lunch between them, Neville was 
speaking in guarded tones to a small man with 
a drawn, rat-like face, not improved by a pair 
of shifty hazel eyes. 

“When did they blow in?” the small man 
was inquiring. 

“Three of them have been here a few days. 
The others came to-day. They’re going out 
on Friday.” He was silent for a moment. 
Suddenly he banged his fist down on the table 
with force. “Confound the luck!” he ex¬ 
claimed angrily. “Williams never wrote me 
a line beforehand about them. They blew in 
here with a letter from him. The one man is 
a friend of his, a very rich man.” 

“What’s the odds? A bunch of kids ain’t 
one, two, three. You said they was all kids 
but this one fella.” 

“I did not,” came the angry contradiction. 
“I said there were two men and five kids. 
WTiat is the matter with your ears?” 

“ Guess I must of missed you; didn’t get it. 


50 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Who's the other guy? Nothin' very swift, 
I’ll bet." 

“ Oh, no; only the slickest guide in the West. 
Did you ever hear of Norton, the Nevada 
hermit? He’s the one that has me guessing." 

“Nope," the other said stolidly. “What's 
he—a tec?" 

“I don't know. I wish I did." Brows 
contracted in a frown, Neville's hand strayed 
to his chin. “He may be nothing more than 
a guide, or, he may be"—he leaned across the 
table—“Secret Service. You see, he is always 
on the go. Last time I heard of him he was 
in Canada—supposedly. He's just the one 
I'd pick as a top-notcher in S. S." 

“You're nutty." The little man gave a 
high wheezy laugh. “Last fall you was sure 
that French bookkeeper of yours was S. S. 
You've got it on the brain. What if they all 
was? Have they got anythin' on you?" 

“No, they haven’t, and I don’t intend they 
shall have. But don't forget we have a pretty 
stiff proposition on our hands just now. If 
it’s worked right—fine business. One slip— 
we are done. We've got to put it over and 
get away with it." 

“Sure, I know that. WTio's the other fella 
with this crowd; I mean the one who stands 
in with Williams? What's their plans?" 







AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


51 


“His name is Craig. He’s harmless. He 
has a bunch of coin, owns a big ranch in 
Nevada. I don’t know their plans. They 
keep ’em under their hats. I’ll have to set a 
trailer on them after they leave here. You 
know why. I’m going to be away from here 
for a few weeks. Sabe? You can get in touch 
with me through old Francois.” 

“I’m on. When do I see you again?” 

“To-morrow night. I’ll meet you at the 
other place at ten. Now beat it. I want to 
get some sleep. I’ve got to make up my re¬ 
ports to-morrow for Williams—a job I hate.” 
Neville rose, yawning, and stretched his long 
arms above his head. 

“I’m goin’.” The rat-faced man pulled a 
black and white checked cap low on his fore¬ 
head. He rose slowly and slouched to the 
door. “So long.” He paused, raised the first 
two fingers of his right hand and laid them 
lightly against his left cheek. “It’s a good 
night only when the work’s well done,” he said 
softly. 

“Hard hearts and strong arms brook no 
failures,” Neville responded, carelessly making 
the same finger sign. “Good-night.” 


CHAPTER V 


Rough Treatment 

S UNRISE the next morning found every 
Long Trailer up and eager to get to work. 
After a hearty breakfast they invaded 
the company store and made things lively for 
the owner for a couple of hours while they 
selected their stuff. The store-keeper, a 
rotund man with a very red face and small 
twinkling blue eyes, let them rummage 
through his wares at will and appeared to 
enjoy their noise. It took several trips to 
transfer their purchases to the shack, and 
these they made with buoyant good will. 
They were all in a hurry to get through wdth 
the necessary preparations and hit the high 
road of adventure. 

“Four burros’ll never be able to tote this 
stuff,” Hal declared, waving an arm over the 
high stack of bundles piled in the middle of 
the shack floor. “We’re toting more eats 
along than we did last year.” 

“ VerdoA; but you eat so much more than 
last year. It is of you we have to think and 

( 52 ) 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 53 


provide, else there would be nothing for the 
rest,” Tony pointed out with a very solemn 
face. 

“Oh, is that so?” Hal shied a package of 
sweet crackers at Tony’s head. It missed 
him and hit the guide on the ear. 

“Keep that up and we’ll have nothing in the 
way of grub by the time we’re ten miles out of 
camp,” was Norton’s prediction. 

“If that horse trader falls down on those 
two burros we’ll have to leave some of this 
behind,” Craig said. “You boys certainly 
blew yourselves in that store.” 

Luckily for the outfit, the trader secured the 
four burros necessary, and of these Antonio 
laughingly assumed charge, amid the jeers of 
his chums. Despite the boys’ staunch defense 
of their ponies of last summer, they could not 
help but admire Norton’s selection of horses. 
Hal chose a jet black pony with a white spot 
on its forehead. He named the pony Star¬ 
light, and immediately began trying to teach 
him to answer his call with a neigh. David 
and Kent took two sorrels, naming them Spice 
and Allspice. George was suited with a gray 
pony, which he called Puff, and Antonio was 
happy, in that a cream-colored pony, on which 
he had had his eye from the first, fell to him. 


54 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


He named it Hidalgo, the Spanish for noble¬ 
man. 

They rode their new possessions back to 
camp, having decided to picket them in a 
good-sized yard behind the shack. Norton 
had picked for himself a bright chestnut horse 
to which he had taken instant liking. Craig’s 
mount was a coal black, of particularly gentle 
disposition, though with plenty of spirit. 

The boys spent the time until supper in 
riding their new ponies about the camp and 
getting used to them generally. Returning 
down the dirt road to the shack at supper time, 
the quintette of young riders attracted a good 
deal of attention. The lumbermen came out 
of then’ shacks to watch the horsemen pass, 
yelling good-natured sallies at and after them. 
These the Long Trail Boys returned in kind 
during their lively canter. 

“Those youngsters can certainly ride,” an 
elderly bookkeeper remarked to Neville. The 
two men stood on the steps of the main office 
as the riders swept by them. 

u Um-m,” was Neville’s sole reply. In spite 
of his apparent lack of interest his eyes nar¬ 
rowed and he shot an unpleasant glance after 
the boys, now far down the road and half 
hidden by a cloud of dust. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


55 


“ Believe me, when I go back to Sweet 
Water, my new horse, Starlight, goes right 
along/'Hal announced that evening at supper. 
“ I’ll ride him as far as I can and ship him the 
rest of the way. I'm never going back on 
Silverheels, but I certainly think w T ell of this 
coal black nag of mine. This time, Norton, 
you ought to be decorated. Here goes." Hal 
unclamped his treasured talisman and prof¬ 
fered it to the guide. 

Norton accepted it, though he laughed. “I 
never took a close look at this," he said. “ It's 
a curious trinket." He held it in his open 
palm, examining it at length. “I'd say this 
was as old as the time of Montezuma. I saw 
a queer silver purse once that was said to have 
been made by him." 

Instead of fastening the talisman to his coat, 
Norton continued to hold it in his hand as he 
went on to describe the purse he had seen. 
When he resumed the eating of his meal, un¬ 
thinkingly, he laid the trinket beside his plate. 
Nor did his companions notice what he had 
done. 

It was not until considerably later in the 
evening that Hal chanced to note that his 
feathered mascot was not ornamenting the 
guide's corduroy shooting coat. 


56 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Say, Norton, where’s my feathered 
friend?” he called out with some concern. 
“I don’t see it beautifying you and your 
coat.” 

The guide’s hand sought his coat lapel. A 
look of blank consternation sprang into his 
face. “By George, Hal, I don’t remember 
fastening that thing to my coat! It’s a shame, 
Boy, but I’m afraid I left it on the table in 
the mess shack. That’s too bad. I—” 

“Gee whiz!” Hal left his chair with a 
bounce. “See you later!” Snatching up 
his sombrero, he dashed out of the house and 
set off for the mess shack on the run. 

The place was in darkness, but this did not 
worry Hal. He carried a flashlight. If the 
door to the shack was unlocked he would run 
in and look for his talisman at their table. It 
might possible be there still. Very likely 
Gam Fu slept in some cubby hole off the 
kitchen. If the talisman was not on the 
table, then Gam Fu had probably picked it 
up. In that case it was safe. Gam Fu and 
he had become quite “chummy” in their two 
days of acquaintance. 

“Ah-h-h!” Hal drew a relieved breath as 
the door swung open to his touch. As he 
stepped lightly across the entry and into the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 57 


mess room, he was aware of the sound of voices 
in the darkness of the long room. He stopped 
uncertainly, surprise ruling him for the 
moment. 

“I got it from Olaf. I seen him s’afternoon. 
He heard this geezer was a special. Now 
Olaf’s layin’ low. They coulda done the trick 
if them—” 

“Olaf’s too fresh. He’d better mind his 

t 

own business/’ Hal instantly recognized the 
other voice as Neville’s. It was now minus 
its indifferent drawl. “He’s a punk-headed 
bungler. You know what happens to them. 
He’ll find himself facing the nineteenth de¬ 
gree.” 

“He meant all right. He had a hunch—” 

“Hunches don’t go. He can’t travel the 
secret trail unless he shows a little more gray 
matter. This is the third bull he’s made. 
Another such and he’s done. Take that back 
to him. A fool like Olaf is next door to a 
traitor. He’s almost as dangerous to the 
conclave.” 

Realizing that he was hearing a conversa¬ 
tion not intended for his ears, Hal waited no 
longer. He walked boldly forward, flashlight 
in play. 

There came a muffled exclamation of angry 



58 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


surprise, a quick rush of feet and Hal felt him¬ 
self seized in a most ungentle grip. His flash¬ 
light fell from his hand and rolled over the 
floor. One of the hands that held him reached 
for his throat. 

“L-e-t g-go,” he managed to gasp. “Fm 
—no—” The cruel clutch only tightened. 
Angry at the outrage, for Hal was sure he had 
been recognized as he stepped forward, he 
began using his feet with such good effect that 
the pressure quickly relaxed. 

“ You young mule! ” The superintendent’s 
tones were thick with anger. “What do you 
mean by—” 

“What did you mean by choking me when 
you knew who I was? ” Hal flung back wrath- 
fully. ‘ 1 You certainly—’ ’ 

“I did not know you until you spoke. I 
saw your light but not you. I wasn’t sure 
then if I knew you. I had a perfect right to 
jump anyone who came sneaking into this 
shack as you did. What business had you to 
come prowling around here at this time of 
night?” 

Neville’s own flashlight was now playing 
upon Hal, who stood glaring at the pair, 
white-faced, eyes snapping. 

“I left something I value highly on our 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


59 


table at supper to-night. I came back for it. 
I thought Gam Fu slept here. I wanted to 
find him. I found the door unlocked, so—” 

“And, if it had been locked, you would have 
climbed in the window/ 7 finished Neville 
sneeringly. 

“I might have/ 7 Hal said coolly, as he 
stooped and picked up his light. 

“I like your nerve. You had better be more 
careful in future. Many of the men here 
pack guns. They are ready to use them, too, 
on midnight intruders. Remember that, 
young man. 77 The superintendent was re¬ 
garding Hal with an unpleasant smile. “ Now 
what was it you lost that was of so much 
importance? 77 

“What I lost needn’t trouble you. 77 Pride 
to the fore, Hal turned on his heel and walked 
over to the table used by the Long Trail 
party. He played his flashlight over the 
table, then walked disappointedly to the door. 
The talisman was not there. 

‘ 4 Wait a minute! 7 7 Neville called af ter him. 

Hal paid no attention to the call. Sore over 
the loss of his mascot he was still sorer over 
the rough treatment he had received. 

“He knew me/ 7 Hal said to himself as he 
stepped into the starlit night, rubbing his 



60 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


aching throat. “I ought to have asked him 
what he and that tough he was with were doing 
there in the dark. He needs the nineteenth 
degree himself, whatever it is.” Hal hap¬ 
pened to recall this much of what he had 
accidentally overheard. “Til see Gam Fu, 
first thing in the morning. Maybe he picked 
up my mascot. I know one thing, if I w^as 
going to be here many more days I’d call for 
a fifteen-round scrap with that blamed super¬ 
intendent and wipe up the camp with him.” 


CHAPTER VI 


Tony to the Rescue 

H AL returned to their shack to find that 
the rest of the outfit had turned in for 
the night. 

“Find it?” Kent inquired softly as his 
chum walked into the room where the lamp 
still burned low for him. 

“Nope. Guess Gam Fu gathered it in. 
Hope so.” Hal decided to say nothing then 
of his encounter with Neville. He thought it 
might be a good thing to keep it to himself 
until after they were well out of camp. Hart¬ 
well Craig, “the pleasantest man ever,” was 
quite likely to “get his back up” at the disa¬ 
greeable superintendent for his unfairness. 
What was the use in starting anything? 

He was up at dawn and racing over to the 
mess shack in quest of Gam Fu. This time 
he found the main door securely locked. 
Hurrying to the rear of the shack, he saw the 
kitchen door standing half open. 

“Gam Fu! Oh, you Gam Fu!”' he called, 
poking his head inside the doorway. 

( 61 ) 



62 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Gam Fu dropped the large iron spoon he 
held in one hand and turned from the kettle 
of cereal he was stirring. 

“How come here? You splise.” He 
beamed cheerfully at Hal. “You wakee 
erlee. You hunglee? You so hunglee, you 
come klitchen?” In spite of his innocent 
question there was a decided twinkle in his 
eyes which Hal caught. 

“No, I’m not hunglee. Yes, I am, too. 
That’s not what brought me around to the 
kitchen door, though. Where is it? You’ve 
got it. Oh, I knew I couldn’t lose it! Lose 
that, I’d have bad luck all the rest of the 
trip.” 

“What losee?” Gam Fu still pretended 
innocence. 

“Come across with it. You can’t fool me. 
You’re too good a friend of mine to keep me 

guessing.” 

Gam Fu fumbled in his loose blue blouse. 
He drew from it the missing token and handed 
it to Hal. 

“What is?” he asked with some curiositv. 

“It’s a talisman.” Hal went on to explain 
in as simple language as he could command. 

“Allee samee good.” Gam Fu nodded 
understanding^ as Hal clamped the silver 
scroll securely to his coat. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 


63 


“It’s the real thing. I’m much obliged to 
you for keeping it for me. You’re a good 
scout, Gam Fu.” Hal held out his hand. 

The China boy took it and shook it hard. 
“Us flens, allee time,” he said proudly. 

“Surest thing you know. Don’t forget to 
call on yours truly if you’re up against it. 
I’ve got to beat it for the shack. I’m only 
about half togged. See you at breakfast.” 

Gam Fu stood in the kitchen door and 
looked after Hal, a curious light in his bright 
black eyes. “Us flens,” he repeated aloud. 
Then he nodded his head with sudden decision 
as though he had definitely made up his mind 
on a particular point. 

“It’s too bad we’ve seen so little of the 
workings of this camp,” Craig remarked to 
his companions late that afternoon as they 
were finishing the sorting and packing of their 
supplies. “That man Neville is so disobliging, 
I haven’t cared to ask him to show us about 
the camp.” 

“Yes, and he’d have jumped on us boys if 
we’d tried to do the camp by ourselves,” Hal 
was quick to add. • “We should worry. This 
camp is only a stop along the way for us, any¬ 
how. Who are we? Tell the world who we 
are, fellows.” 


64 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Hal raised the familiar yell which the Long 
Trail Boys had made their own. His chums 
joined him in a deafening chorus. With the 
last details so nearly arranged, the lads were 
in high spirits and ready to break forth at the 
slightest encouragement. 

“Well, I guess you were entitled to that 
outburst," Norton said when the racket had 
subsided. “You've done a good job of pack¬ 
ing. Better give Gam Fu whatever won't 
load onto the burros in the morning." 

“I'll tell him to be around here when we 
load. We’ll be starting so early he can get 
over here before he's due to carry hash for the 
lumber crowd," was Hal's reply. 

That evening at supper, however, no Gam 
Fu appeared to wait on them. Another China 
boy, fat-faced and swarthy, took the place of 
Hal's newly sworn friend. 

“Where's Gam Fu?" Hal asked in surprise 
of the new waiter. 

“Gone," came the brief answer. 

“Gone?" echoed Hal, David and Kent in 
concert. 

“Yes. No come back more." 

“Wh-a-t?" Hal’s voice rose. “When did 
all this happen? Why did Gam Fu go, and 
where did he go?" 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 65 


“ Don’t know.’’ The waiter raised his 
hands in a helpless kind of fashion as though 
to discourage further questions. He imme¬ 
diately hurried away. 

“ You couldn't pry out of that Chink where 
Gam Fu went/' Hal said to the others. “ Oh, 
I know those boys! He knows all about Gam, 
but he'd never spill a word. Gam must have 
had it up his sleeve when I was over to his 
kitchen this A. M. Did he peep? Not he. 
He and I swore eternal friendship over the 
cereal kettle. Now I suppose I'll never see 
him again." 

This rueful announcement met with laugh¬ 
ter. Hal grinned his own regret at the loss of 
his vanished friend. Just as he was leaving 
the mess shack, however, he felt a light touch 
on his arm. He turned quickly and looked 
into the vacant face of the swarthy waiter. 

“Gam Fu says give you this. I write for 
him. I know English." He tucked a folded 
paper into Hal's hand and slipped away. 

Hal was too wise to call him back. Instead 
he gave his attention to the folded paper. 
Opening it he read: 

“My esteem fren I go away I hate Nevil he hit me 
today this is to much no mor I see you agen goo by 
your esteem fren Gam Fu very bad man Nevil you be 
carful you burn this” 


66 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


The half smile on Hal’s face changed to a 
decided frown as he read Gam Fu’s message. 
His wrath rose afresh against the man he had 
come to detest in so short a time. 

“So that's the answer,” he said to himself. 
He tucked the paper into the breast pocket of 
his coat. He intended to show it to his friends 
when they were inside the shack. They had 
already left the mess shack and were a few 
yards up the road. They had not noticed that 
he had dropped behind. 

“What do you think of this?” he began the 
instant the party had trooped into the shack. 
He took Gam Fu’s note from his pocket and 
read it aloud. 

“Humph! I’m not the only one who can’t 
go that Neville,” David said in a dry tone. 

“He looks like the kind that would hand a 
servant, or even a lumberjack, a bat because he 
happened to have a chip on his shoulder,” was 
George’s opinion. 

“I’d made up my mind to keep something 
that happened to me dark until we were clear 
of this place, but I guess I’ll tell it.” Hal 
recounted his unlucky experience of the even¬ 
ing before. 

“I wish you had told us this last night,” 
Hartwell Craig said sharply. “He asked me 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 67 


to-day how much longer we were going to be 
here. He asked me in such an insolent way I 
was inclined to take him up on it. I ignored 
his manner. If I had known of this I would 
have called him down.” Craig looked his 
righteous annoyance. 

“Oh, I didn’t want to start anything. I 
had no business to go piking into the mess 
shack so late, but I was up in the air about my 
mascot. Got a match, anybody? I must 
make a bonfire of G. F.’s note. As his ‘esteem 
fren’ it’s up to me to make good.” 

“Here’s one.” Norton handed Hal a 
match. “Just as well you ignored this boor 
of a superintendent,” he said to Craig. “He’s 
what I’d call a trouble hunter. It may not 
have suited him to have us stay here. He had 
no say in the matter, so he took out his spleen 
on us, or tried to.” 

“ Gam Fu has his number, all right enough,” 
Hal declared. 

“Yes; the Chinese read very well the 
heart,” Tony seconded. “It is not easy to 
fool them. I have known many Chinese. 
They are very wise.” 

“You’d better believe they are. You can’t 
have a truer friend than a China boy if he 
happens to like you.” Hal set fire to the bit 


68 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


of paper, holding it in his fingers until it was 
consumed. 

As it was still daylight the boys decided to 
go for a short ride on their ponies. So well 
had they worked that day nothing now re¬ 
mained to be done save load the burros and 
ride away. Norton and Craig declined Hal’s 
invitation to “dust up the camp a little,” 
preferring to sit quietly on the steps of the 
shack and smoke their pipes. 

The ponies seemed glad of a chance to stretch 
their legs and showed themselves to be frisky 
enough to delight their riders. Darkness had 
fallen when the horsemen swept into the yard 
behind the shack with the usual amount of 
lively commotion. Antonio, ever mindful of 
his pets, made a last careful round of the 
horses after the boys had tethered them before 
going into the shack. While it was barely 
nine o’clock, all were ready and willing to 
turn in against the start at sunrise. 

It was well toward two o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing when Tony was awakened by a sound 
which even in his sleep had penetrated his 
trained ears. Long years on the range had 
made him a fight sleeper ready to awake at 
the slightest noise foreign to his ken. 

He sat up on his cot, silent and alert, his 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 69 


lately dormant faculties growing keener as he 
listened for a repetition of the sound that had 
disturbed his slumbers. For two or three 
minutes he heard nothing save the regular 
breathing of his sleeping comrades. He did 
not relax his intent attitude of listening, for 
he knew that something out of the ordinary 
had aroused him. 

Five minutes passed, then Tony heard some¬ 
thing which brought his feet to the floor in a 
hurry. Like a shadow he left his cot and 
slipped to the back door of the shack. The 
door was not locked and he turned the knob 
and swung it open without making any noise. 
Peering out into the blackness of the yard, for 
there was no moon, he could at first pick up 
nothing. Indistinctly he began to see the 
horses take shape. Even as he strained his 
eyes in the darkness he drew a sharp breath of 
consternation. 

The horses had been picketed at the extreme 
right of the yard on fairly short tether. How 
happened it that they were now at the extreme 
left of the grassy square and moving? Like 
lightning Tony’s hands went to his lips in the 
long shrill whistle Norton had taught the boys. 
In the same instant he cleared the three back 
steps and bounded after the horses. 


70 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


A spurt of flame cut the black night around 
him. A bullet whistled past his left ear, fired 
from a gun equipped with a silencer. He felt 
a second one zip past his right cheek, but kept 
on going. His alarm whistle had not checked 
the flight of the horse thieves. The ponies 
were still on the move. Instead of leading 
them out to the road, the rustlers were heading 
them for a stretch of uneven stumpy land 
which lay beyond a field behind the shack. 

As Tony came up even with the last pony 
he landed on its back with a flying leap. 
Shouting to the other ponies, he rode his 
mount in among them. Determined to make 
them follow him, he began cleverly to gather 
them up, regardless of the fact that he was 
still being used as a target. As nearly as he 
could tell there were only two of the thieves 
and neither were riding the ponies. He made 
out a tall, bulky form at the head of the mid¬ 
night procession. This rustler was not doing 
the shooting. That came from a smaller form, 
dodging in and out among the animals. 

Tony’s shrill, rallying whistle had not failed 
in its purpose. Shouts and running feet told 
him his conrades were awake and moving 
toward him. Tony, however, was doing very 
well by himself. His knowledge of horses 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 71 


stood him in good stead. So well, in fact, 
that the man with the gun ceased plugging at 
him. A shrill, protesting neigh from Hidalgo, 
his own pony, informed him that the night 
raider was trying to mount the animal. 

Darkness had not hindered Tony from 
recognizing his mount as Starlight, Hal’s pony. 
Hidalgo, being the lightest in color of the seven 
ponies, Tony could now see him quite dis¬ 
tinctly. With an angry exclamation he 
brought Starlight up beside the loudly neigh¬ 
ing Hidalgo. Leaning out from his pony as 
far as he could, the infuriated Mexican boy 
gave the rustler, who had succeeded in gaining 
Hidalgo’s back, a violent push with a sturdy 
right arm. It half unseated the other. Before 
he could regain his balance Tony followed it 
up with another forceful shove and grasped 
Hidalgo’s halter. 

The thief slid from the horse in a hurry, just 
saving himself from rolling under its prancing 
feet. With a string of curses he dropped away 
in the darkness. Tony heard him shout some 
unintelligible word to the big fellow who had 
been ahead. No answer came back. Either 
the long rider had dropped into hiding or given 
up the job and fled. 

Tony was not concerned as to what became 


72 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


of the two thieves, provided they did not get 
away with the horses. He felt fairly sure that 
all seven ponies were near by. Raising his 
voice, he shouted reassurance to his approach¬ 
ing friends. 

“What broke loose?” was George Davis’s 
excited question as the rest of the outfit came 
running up to where Tony now stood between 
Hidalgo and Starlight. He had just slipped 
from Hidalgo’s back, about to take an inven¬ 
tory. “How’d you get into this wild-west 
show without your little pals?” 

“Mi madre! I awoke only in time!” Tony 
cried out. “I heard the queer noise in the 
yard among the horses. I knew something 
was not right.” He rapidly recounted his 
dash to save their ponies from the rustlers. 
“Give me the flashlight,” he said. “I go to 
count the ponies to see none are missing.” 

Kent had been the only one thoughtful 
enough to secure his flashlight when the 
disturbance had started. He now tendered 
it to Tony, who raced in and out among the 
ponies. He had succeeded in forming them 
into a straggling group before his comrades 
had joined him. The entire party were half 
way across the field behind the shack where 
the thieves had abandoned their neighing 
booty. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 73 


“Are the burros all there? ” Norton called 
out anxiously. “We can’t spare one of them. 
Maybe the scamps were out for the ponies 
only.” 

“I’ll hump it back to the yard and see if 
they’re there. Be with you in a jiffy.” Hal 
turned and ran toward the shack. 

“The burros are not with the ponies,” Kent 
called back to the guide a moment or two later. 
“The horses are all here.” 

“A pretty note if our burros are missing!” 
Craig’s tones betrayed marked consternation. 
“After the trouble we had to secure them, 
too.” 

“They’re gone; skidooed; vamosed!” Hal 
came tearing back to his companions, all 
excitement. “They didn’t break away them¬ 
selves, either. They were untied!” 


CHAPTER VII 


Secret Eyes 

“rySHEY can’t be far away, Senor 
8 Norton. I am sure they were 
not with the ponies when these 
were being led away. Perhaps they were led 
off into the field ahead of the horses and left 
there until the thieves had time to come back 
for them,” Tony said hopefully. 

“ I hope so. In that case we stand a chance 
of recovering them. We’d best give this field 
a going over. Those rascals may have let 
them slide when they had to make their own 
get-away. If we hurry we may round up the 
burros. Delay, and the thieves may come 
sneaking back for them a little later.” 

“ Spread out, dubs of the Long Trail, and 
show the world what good mule detectives 
you are,” Hal laughingly commanded. “Hear 
that?” His quick ear had picked up the 
sound of voices. “Here come the villagers.” 

“Yes, and I wish they’d stay away,” Norton 
said grimly. “I suppose the racket woke 
’em up.” 


( 74 ) 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 75 


“Can you blame them? With all that 
shouting the whole camp is probably awake,” 
Craig returned vexedly. “We’ll have to 
stand for their quizzing.” 

“I'll go round to the front of the shack and 
head them off,” David proposed. “You 
fellows go ahead and hunt up the burros. 
This shack is quite a way off from the bunk 
houses. Maybe that’ll let us out on a gang.” 

“You’re the prince of good pals! Go to it, 
old top! Don’t ask me to deck you with my 
mascot. The last person I decorated with my 
cherished talisman got careless with it. So 
don’t expect it from me.” 

With this thrust at Norton, Hal scudded off 
in the darkness, laughing. 

David hurried to intercept the owners of 
the voices which proceeded from the front of 
the shack. Seven or eight men in the shack 
nearest their own had been indulging in a late 
card game. It was this group that David 
now met. 

“Horse thieves!” was the general exclama¬ 
tion. “First in this camp for many a year! 
You hear about ’em outside here, though.” 

“There’s a gang in the big woods, a piece 
of tall timber south o’ here, ’bout forty mile, 
I wouldn’t put it past,” said an old lumber- 


76 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


man. “Once in awhile some o’ us gets trim¬ 
med by ’em. They’re stealers and killers, 
too, ’f they c’n get away with it.” 

“What do you mean, a regular organized 
band of outlaws?” David asked quickly. 
Here was something that Hal would relish 
knowing. 

“Don’t know as they’re just that,” another 
man broke in, “but they’re a gang of rap¬ 
scallions. They’re supposed to be lumber¬ 
jacks, makin’ their livin’ that way. Only 
they don’t. They’re whispered round here 
as long riders an’ hold-up men. Only no¬ 
body’s yet got it on ’em.” 

“The jacks in this camp are ’fraid to talk 
out loud ’bout ’em,” said still another. “One 
fella got took out on a dark night and was 
found next day, ’bout ten miles from here, 
tied to a tree with his back cut up somethin’ 
fierce. They’d guv him a lickin’ fur talkin’ 
too free ’bout ’em, it seems. He kept pretty 
mum ’bout it. They had him skeered at last. 
One night him and me was playin’ cards and 
he opened up and told me the hull thing. He 
said three fellas walked into his bunk house 
one night ’round twelve and grabbed him. 
They jammed a pilla into his face, so’d he 
couldn’t hardly breathe, let alone makin’ a 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 77 


squawk. They snaked him out so quick they 
didn’t wake up a man. They put him on a 
horse, tied him and rode him off to this place 
I was speakin’ of. A bunch of ’em was 
waitin’ there. They give him a call-down for 
bein’ too gabby. Then they walloped him 
with a horsew r hip.” 

“When did all this happen?” David was 
boyishly impressed by this gruesome tale. 

“ ’Bout a year ago. It was ’long in the fall, 
and on an awiul dark night.” 

“Yes, and he ain’t the only one,” said a tall, 
lank youth with a fair, pleasant face. “I 
heard of a fella only two months ago who was 
chased by a gang of masks; this same outfit, 
I reckon. He w T as a tenderfoot traveler round 
up here on a horse with a fat bank roll. It 
W'as gettin’ towards dark and he w r as ridin’ a 
back trail and seven of these masks jumped 
out at him. He spurred his pony and it 
started off a flyin’. The masks tried to grab 
it, but it happened to be a kicker and they 
couldn’t get to it. Pretty soon he found they 
w^as after him horseback. They must have 
had their horses close by ’em when they went 
for him. He outrode ’em, and they dropped 
off about five miles from here.” 

“Why don’t the lumber police go after this 


78 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


gang of supposed lumberjacks? They could 
be arrested on suspicion. They ought to be 
run in and third-degreed,” was David’s em¬ 
phatic opinion. 1 

“Oh, some of them fellas have been hauled 
up at different times. They always manage 
to get cleared, though. No one can say if 
they belong to the masks or not. I don’t 
know as any of them masks has ever been 
nabbed. You only hear of ’em once in a 
while,” returned the blond young man. “I 
heard a big tec from Washington was up here 
somewhere trying to run this masked gang 
down. I never saw anybody ’round here that 
looked like him.” 

“Three of our crowd swung in and fought 
for a man who was held up just the other 
day.” David gave brief details of the fight 
in which his chums had taken active part. 

“ Whadda you know about that? ” exclaimed 
one of the men. “If I had time I’d hike up to 
the Natomah cooler and take a squint at these 
ginks. Bet I’d know~ if they was from that 
crowd below here.” 

A long sharp whistle from Hal apprised 
David that he was wanted by his own party. 
He exchanged pleasant good nights with the 
lumbermen, who trooped back to their shack 
to turn in for what remained of the night. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 79 


“What luck?” David questioned as he 
almost collided with Hal and Kent half way 
across the field. 

“Steady, old clock. I didn’t tell you you 
could knock me down.” Hal had just missed 
being bowled over by his hurrying chum. 
“Best luck ever. Tony spotted the burros 
over among those stumps beyond this field. 
They’d been led there, I’ll say.” 

“Glad the burros are still with the outfit,” 
David said fervently. 

“Here, too. Norton can hardly wait for 
daylight. He’s in one grand little stew to kiss 
this dump good-bye,” Kent said. 

“Don’t blame him. Those men were nice 
fellows. They told me quite a lot about a 
gang of masked riders that have been seen in 
this part of the country.” David repeated 
what the lumbermen had told him. 

“There’s our chance for some peppy adven¬ 
tures,” Hal immediately pointed out. “We’re 
going right in the direction where these wood¬ 
land pets are supposed to lurk. I see where 
we may not have such a tame old time after 
all.” 

By the time the outfit had gathered behind 
the shack Tony also came up with the burros. 
A subdued shout of acclamation greeted him 


80 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


as he drove the beasts to their corner of the 
yard and began tethering them. 

“Senor Antonio Sebastian Valdez, the Boy 
Burro Wonder, in a refined and original dem¬ 
onstration of complete mastery over four of 
the fiercest specimens of the mule kingdom. 
Get your reserved seats early,” announced 
Hal grandly. 

“Ay de mi! It is for you to talk, when I 
have nearly broken my neck among the 
stumps,” retorted Tony. “Still, it is better 
that than hunt and hunt and then no burros.” 

“ Sure it is,” Hal glibly agreed. “ Now that 
we’ve got our treasured burros back and our 
helpful Mejicano along with them, I move we 
rise up and shake this camp. It won’t be long 
until daylight. Why hang around here?” 

“ Your head’s level, boy,” Norton said, with 
a decided nod. “It’s close to three o’clock 
now. Time we’re loaded it will be daybreak. 
Sorry to bother you, after you’ve just tied up 
those beasts, Tony, but I think we’d best start 
loading them. That largest flashlight will give 
light enough to work by. How about it, 
Craig?” 

“I’m with you. Like Hal, I’ve had quite 
enough of this camp. While I am appreciative 
of Mr. Williams’ courtesy, I don’t like the lay- 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 81 


out here, and that’s flat. I’d prefer to be 
strictly on our own as soon as possible.” 

Elated at the prospect of moving on im¬ 
mediately instead of waiting until daylight 
to load, the Long Trail Boys turned in and 
worked with a will. The night sky was just 
fading into a pallid dawn when the burros 
were led out to the road and the boys swung 
jubilantly into their saddles. 

On the dirt road in front of the shack, the 
little procession formed. Kent volunteered 
as usual to ride behind the burros with Tony, 
his old detail when on the Nevada trip. It 
was not more than half-past four. The camp 
was still wrapped in slumber. As they passed 
the superintendent’s shack, Hal flapped a 
derisive hand toward it. 

“ Farewell, Mr. Grouch,” he called out 
impudently. “Oh, how we hate to leave 
you—I don’t think. So glad we met you. 
Hope we never see you again.” 

“Hush, hush!” Craig mildly rebuked. 
Nevertheless he laughed with the others. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll bet he never bats an 
eye before eight A. M.,” Hal said cheerfully. 

As it happened, Neville was awake and 
watching the riders’ departure from the camp. 
Hal’s uncomplimentary sally floated clearly 


82 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


enough through the soft morning air to his 
listening ears. He was observing the riders 
from a small side window. By standing back 
from it a trifle he could see without being seen. 
His face was darkened as he heard and he 
muttered angrily between his teeth: “Fresh 
young whelp! He needs a trimming. I’ll see 
that he has it before I’m through with him.” 

From a little tumble-down, disused shack 
on the southern outskirts of the camp, another 
pair of eyes were fixed on the Long Trail outfit 
as it swung gallantly along. Their owner 
seemed no less interested in the riders than 
the superintendent had been. When they 
were well past the shack a cautious figure 
emerged and started down the road after 
them at a quick run. So swift of foot was 
this new trailer that, at the leisurely rate of 
speed the riders were traveling, he would be 
able to keep them in sight while his wind held 
out. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Around the Campfire 

F IVE miles out from the lumber camp 
hunger drove the outfit to make a stop 
for breakfast. This morning the boys 
had the satisfaction of making a fire and cook¬ 
ing their food in the open. They were glad 
and ready to turn to and busy themselves with 
the job of breakfast getting. Kent made the 
fire, George and David gathering the wood for 
it. Hal elected to cook, with Tony for a 
helper. 

“You two old cronies can sit and smoke 
your pipes,” he told Norton and Craig. “Pm 
going to give you a bang-up brekky this morn¬ 
ing, and don’t you forget to remember it. 
We’re going to have fried ham, biscuits with 
maple syrup and potatoes fried raw with 
onions. Coffee and doughnuts on the tail- 
end of that feed. Can you beat it? We 
annexed six dozen doughnuts from the cake 
man that sells to the camp yesterday, and a 
bunch of other delicacies that we can get away 
with before they turn to stone.” 

( 83 ) 


84 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“ Don’t be too generous with your eats,” 
warned Craig. “Rnmember, we may not 
strike another place where we can stock up 
again while we’re out.” 

“Oh, there’ll always be bacon and biscuits 
to fall back on. You know what a grand little 
biscuit artist I am.” Hal beamed reassurance 
on Craig. 

“Yes, I know all about it.” Craig’s tone 
was not enthusiastic. “Your biscuits are 
0. K. unless something happens to them. Did 
you ever make any that nothing happened 
to?” 

“I’ll let you know when these are done.” 
Hal hustled back to his cooking job. 

It was a light-hearted group which presently 
got out plates, cups and cutlery from their 
knapsacks and fell to at their first forest 
breakfast. Tony had fried the ham and the 
potatoes, leaving Hal a clear field for the 
great effort of turning out perfect biscuits. 
For once he took pains and the result caused 
him to crow with satisfaction. 

The meal over the Long Trailers started on 
again. It would take two days of moderate 
riding through the woods to reach the first 
place Norton had marked on their route as 
suitable for a few days’ stop. From this point 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 85 


they could radiate in all directions and find 
hunting and fishing. It marked the beginning 
of mountainous territory, wild and abounding 
in deep mountain streams where trout and 
other fish could be found. It was in the 
neighborhood of forty miles south of the 
Williams camp and within twenty of the 
cabin which Norton had planned to make 
their summer headquarters. 

Their first day on the trail passed unevent¬ 
fully so far as any excitement of an unfavorable 
nature was concerned. With dark the whole 
party were ready to turn in for the night. 
Short sleep on the previous night and a long 
day in the saddle in that high altitude had 
made their eyelids heavy. 

“No campfire yarns to-night for this chick¬ 
en,” yawned Hal as the outfit sat in a more or 
less drowsy half circle after supper. “Fm 
going to roll up in my blanket under that big 
tree and go by-by. See to it that none of you 
fellows come bowling along and step on me.” 

“Huh, guess we’ll be busy enough with our 
own sleeping. You’re safe from us,” George 
said, duplicating Hal’s yawn. 

“Do you think there’s any need of keeping 
a watch to-night?” Craig asked Norton. “On 
account of those horses, I mean.” 


86 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“No. Whoever tried that trick last night 
won’t be ’round to-night. Those fellows don’t 
work that way. Besides, I hear more acutely 
in the woods than indoors. If we’d been out 
in the open last night, those rustlers wouldn’t 
have set foot near the camp without my hear¬ 
ing them. I’m always open-eared outdoors 
even in my sleep. I was off my guard in that 
shack. I wasn’t expecting anything like that 
to happen. Tony put one over on me.” 
Norton smiled at the Mexican boy. 

“I am the very light sleeper, Senor Norton. 
My ears are quick to hear a noise among the 
animals because for so long I have watched 
on the range. But to-night I think I will hear 
nothing,” Tony added. “It is hard now to 
keep open my eyes. The horses are in a good 
place. We had best roll up in our blankets 
quite near them.” 

“A good idea,” Craig said. “Norton at 
least will be sure to hear if anyone comes 
sneaking around here.” 

“Don’t worry. I’ll hear whether I sleep 
near the horses or not,” was the guide’s posi¬ 
tive reply. 

The dawn of a sparkling sunshiny morning, 
however, succeeded a quiet night, during 
which no suspicious or alarming sounds had 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 87 


been heard. The outfit was up at five and 
hustling to get breakfast over so as to be on 
the move again. That evening, if all went 
well, would see them encamped on the site 
Norton had chosen for them. The trail they 
were traveling was wide and looked more like 
a tote road, grass grown and long disused. It 
was easy going for the ponies and burros, even 
though it cut straight into the wilderness. 

Early twilight shadows were thickening 
among the giant pines and beeches and oaks 
when the Long Trail outfit rode down a gentle 
incline through a wide arroyo and up a steep 
bit of trail to their camping site. A small 
strip of grassy table land over half way up a 
wide wooded hill made an ideal site for a 
camp. It was open enough to catch the sun¬ 
light and yet sufficiently tree surrounded to 
be comfortably secluded. Even in the fast¬ 
falling twilight the boys could see its advan¬ 
tages. 

“We’ve got the drop on everybody up 
here,” Hal declared triumphantly, as he 
strained his eyes to take in his new surround¬ 
ings. “In daylight I’ll bet you can see away 
down into the woods on all sides. I hear 
water somewhere near, too.” 

“ There’s a big spring of ice cold water just 


88 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


above us,” the guide said. “One of you boys 
had better go with me for water while this bit 
of light lasts.” 

“I’ll go with you.” David busied himself 
with finding the burro that carried the two 
water pails. These secured, he and the guide 
set off for the spring, hurrying ahead of the 
darkness. 

The others took advantage of that last bit 
of cloudy light to gather up wood, not only 
for a cook fire, but a camp fire as well. By 
the time the water carriers returned, the boys 
had blazing torches stuck into the ground at 
various points to augment the clearer, steadier 
light of the camp’s largest flashlight. 

“Quite an illumination you’ve rustled up,” 
Norton commented. 

“Just wait till we get the campfire to going! 
There’s slathers of dead wood over there,” 
George indicated the left hand side of the 
camp. “To-morrow we’ll lay in a supply of it.” 

“Gee, but this is a dandy spot!” Kent said 
enthusiastically. “I wouldn’t mind settling 
down here for a while. That is if there’s 
plenty of good hunting and fishing. You 
know the kind of hunting I mean.” 

“Fishing’s sure enough,” Norton replied. 
“The hunting,” he shrugged his shoulders. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 89 


“That’s another story. You graduated from 
the jack rabbit and pheasant class after you 
killed those two bears last summer. You 
might travel this territory all summer and 
never see either a bear or a wolf.” 

Kent laughed. “I’ve bear on the brain, I 
guess,” he said, coloring a little. “Just the 
same I’d like to bring down one when it was 
on the go. Those two I shot last summer 
were nothing to brag about. They’d pretty 
nearly finished each other before I took a shot 
at them.” 

After supper that night, the party lingered 
about a huge, ruddy campfire talking of hunt¬ 
ing principally. Hartwell Craig had hunted 
in all of the western states and had many 
interesting tales to relate. He recalled one 
incident of an aggravating pursuit of a brown 
she-bear which always managed cleverly to 
elude him. 

“She was the cleverest animal I have ever 
seen,” he said. “I finally lost her trail and 
gave up the chase in disgust. I was out 
hunting with two friends and had lost track 
of them when I went after this bear. I had 
agreed to meet them within a certain time at 
a certain place if we chanced to become 
separated. I started back to that place and 


90 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


on the very first afternoon I walked plump 
into the bear I’d been after. There she was, 
in front of a rocky cavern playing with two 
little fuzzy bear cubs. I saw her before she 
scented me, and—well—went on and left her 
there. I didn’t have the heart to shoot her. 
She looked so contented and happy. I let 
those two woolly cubs have their mother.” 

A moment of silence, then a laugh followed 
Craig’s recital. At once an argument arose 
among the boys as to what each would have 
done in like circumstances. In the end they 
all agreed that they would have probably 
followed Craig’s example. 

Hal now seized upon the occasion to demand 
the wolf yarn of Norton which the guide had 
refused to spin on the evening of the boys’ 
arrival at the Williams camp. This evening 
Norton had no objection to spinning it. 

“ There’s nothing meaner or more savage 
than a pack of the ugly critters,” Norton 
began. “ I never had but that one bad run-in 
with ’em. That was enough and more for me. 
It was away up in Canada that they took after 
me and nearly got me. I was up there deer 
stalking. I’d been chasing a big buck. I 
shot him in the jaw and he got away. I knew 
he couldn’t eat, but would go on for days in 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 91 


misery, so I kept after him to finish him up 
right. Fd seen an occasional skulking wolf 
in the woods that trip, but hadn't thought 
much of it. Brought down one and took a 
shot at another that I missed. The day after 
I shot the buck I found blood on the snow, 
showing me that he had been around there. 
The wolves smelled the blood and began 
running in a pack to get his goat. If I'd 
stopped to think about it I might have been 
on the watch for them, but I was a young 
fellow then, just learning the woods. 

“I was hitting up a pretty good pace. The 
wind had blown the snow away until the going 
was fairly good, even in and out among the 
trees. All of a sudden I heard a long, loud 
yowl that I knew one wolf hadn't made by 
himself. I began to look for a good place 
where I could stand the pests off. I didn't 
want to climb a tree. I wanted to be where 
I could handle my rifle easily and shoot up the 
pack if I had to. I had a pocket full of shells 
and I was a pretty good shot. 

“I kept on going through the woods. I 
knew they wouldn't miss me, for I was walk¬ 
ing the buck's trail still, hoping I'd find him 
before they did. I didn't see any stand that 
suited me and the pack kept coming closer. 


92 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Pretty soon I went down a little slope and 
struck a gully/’ the guide continued. “I 
followed the bottom of it for a way and all at 
once I saw the buck. He was lying on a flat 
rock at the top of the gully on the side opposite 
to where I’d come from. The rock jutted out 
three or four feet into the space above the 
gully. I thought it was a pretty good place 
for me and I made for it. The wolves couldn’t 
get at me from the bottom of the gully and I 
had a good chance to pick ’em off. I supposed 
there’d be maybe ten or fifteen of them at the 
most. 

“It wasn’t long until I could see them come 
running through the gully. Right then I got 
a jolt. There were a good many more than 
I’d thought. They were coming with their 
ugly red mouths open and their tongues hang¬ 
ing out, yipping every step of the way. I saw 
where I’d have to get busy. I let a big fellow 
ahead of the rest have it and the rest ripped 
into him the second he dropped. I shot into 
that mob of ripping, tearing fiends then as 
fast as I could fire and reload. It held them 
up for a while, but they’re mighty cunning. 
They remembered it was the buck and I they 
were after and a bunch of them started for us 
again, full cry. Some of them got right below 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 93 


me and tried to scramble up the rock. I know 
they couldn’t do that. Part of them ran 
around in the gully until they found a way 
to climb out and come at me on my side of 
the ravine. 

“I had to shoot lively, I can tell you, but it 
took ’em long enough to get out of the gully 
and head for me that I could shoot without 
missing many. I began to find I’d taken on a 

V 

pretty big contract. They were certainly a 
large, hungry pack. But they understood in 
their own way that they were getting the 
worst of it. Some of ’em began to hang back, 
then ran away. Seven or eight husky fellows 
came right along up to the rock. They 
weren’t going to give up. I dropped my gun 
and pulled out my revolver. I shot the biggest 
one of all when he wasn’t more than twelve 
feet from me. I did for five of that crowd and 
the other two or three turned and beat it, just 
about as a dog might who’d had enough of a 
scrap. A few of them snapped and yapped at 
me for a little while at the bottom of the 
gully, but I picked them off, one by one. 

“After a while things quieted down. I 
wanted to go back to my camp before dark, 
so I left the buck dead with a bullet through 
his head and hit the home trail. Before 


94 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


I went I counted up my kill.” Norton 
paused. 

“How many were there?” asked three or 
four eager voices. 

The guide looked almost sheepish. “Twen¬ 
ty-eight,” he said, as though he hardly expect¬ 
ed to be believed. “There must have been 
fully forty in that pack. I know a couple of 
Canadian trappers had a camp near mine. 
They wouldn’t take my word for it until they 
went over and counted the casualties.” 

“Great Ccesar’s ghost!” Hal emitted a shrill 
whistle. “You’re a real sure enough wolf 
slayer.” 

“When I was hunting in the wilds of 
Africa,” George began importantly, “I ran 
slam-bang into a bunch of twenty-two lions, 
ten tigers and fourteen jaguars. I didn’t have 
my gun with me, but I wasn’t afraid. I—” 

“You’re going to be afraid now, though.” 
Hal sprang up and made for George, who was 
sitting on the opposite side of the campfire. 

Nimble George was on his feet as soon as 
Hal. Away he raced as fast as his long legs, 
would carry him, Hal in hot pursuit. 

“ Run him out of camp,” was Kent’s shouted 
advice after Hal. “He needs it to clear his 
brain of that ten-tiger delusion.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 95 


“Bet your life I will,” floated back over 
Hal’s shoulder. 

Presently he returned, hauling the amazing 
African adventurer along by both arms. “If 
he’d sprung that dizzy dream in daylight I’d 
have ducked him in the pool below the spring. 
As it is, he’ll just have to wait until morning.” 
Hal gave his captive a vigorous shove as he 
released him, which sent George sprawling on 
the ground and started a make-believe scrap. 

The other lads joined in this and a good- 
natured scuffle went on for a few minutes 
which ended in a general opinion: “The Long 
Trail Boys are some scrappers.” 

After the lusty shouts and laughter of the 
boys during their sham fight an unusual still¬ 
ness settled over the camp, unbroken save for 
the usual night sounds which were too much 
a part of the darkness to challenge attention. 
The oufit slept as only those can who are out 
all day in the free open air of the western 
mountains. 

It was not long past midnight when Norton 
proved his statement that his sense of vigilance 
would always warn him awake when out of 
doors. He suddenly opened his eyes and 
listened, his dream vigilance coming into that 
of an alert waking brain. He was on his feet 


96 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


instantly, his eyes trained on a thicket of tall 
bushes just below the camp. It was from 
there that he now thought he heard a faint 
rustle of low-growing twigs stirred by some 
one or something other than the light night 
wind. 

He stood still, a dark intent figure in the 
first pale rays of the faint rising moon. Then, 
noiselessly as a shadow, he made for the black 
patch of bushes below him. Always replacing 
his high laced boots with moccasins before 
turning in, the guide slipped along like an 
Indian. The closer he drew to the thicket the 
more he was convinced that it held a human 
lurker. An animal would have scented his 
approach and scurried away openly. 

His revolver was in his hip pocket, but he 
did not draw it. Being a man of the woods, 
he was used to walking fearlessly up to the 
unknown, bare-handed. His left hand, how¬ 
ever, reached for his small pocket flashlight, 
This convenience was indispensable to him. 

“Who are you and what are you doing 
here?’ 7 His voice low but stem, Norton 
challenged a dim shape crouched down among 
the bushes. 

For answer the shape sprang up and started 
off on the run. Norton dashed after the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 97 


fugitive, guided by the sound of feet crashing 
amongst brittle underbrush. Then came a 
heavier crash and the guide knew that the 
fleeing person had stumbled and fallen. 

With an exclamation of triumph he pounced 
upon the fallen lurker, turning his light upon 
the prostrate figure. The other had plunged 
headlong into a brush heap and could not 
readily extricate himself. 

“Well, I’ll be hanged!” burst from the 
amazed guide’s lips. “Now where did you 
come from? Get up and give an account of 
yourself.” 

“You helpee me?” a meek voice requested. 
Both arms stuck deep into the brush, a solemn 
moon face regarded Norton over one narrow 
shoulder. A pair of short legs waved frantic¬ 
ally in air as their owner struggled to regain 
his feet. 

“Yes, I’ll helpee you,” Norton mimicked, 
“and then you’ll tell me what you’re up to.” 

“Me allee light. Me good fren,” were the 
reassuring words as the midnight visitor was 
hauled to his feet by the guide. 

“Sure of that?” Norton’s tone was only 
half serious. His first shock of amazement 
had passed at discovering Gam Fu to be the 
lurker about the camp. He was inclined to 
believe the now smiling China boy. 


98 


THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Yesee.” Gam Fu emphasized his reply. 
“How my fren Hal?” he inquired somewhat 
timidly. “Me likee see. He velly nice boy. 
Me likee ask he som’thin.” 

“He’s asleep. You’d better ask me/’ said 
the guide with a half-smile. 

“Waitee here mornin’; see then. You let- 
tee me be here? Me hurtee nossin. Me velly 
good China boy.” Gam Fu proposed to see 
Hal at all events. 

“Well, I believe that, but you had better 
come up to the camp. I can give you a 
blanket. How did you manage to find us?” 
Norton had a shrewd suspicion of his own 
regarding the China boy. 

Gam Fu gave his high, funny little chuckle. 
“You go horsee; me go footee. Me gettee 
far behin’. Then you stoppee, eat and sleep, 
me catchee. Me likee go long my fren Hal 
an’ he’s frens.” 

“Just about what I thought.” Norton 
smiled outright this time. ‘ ‘Are you hungry? ’ ’ 

The boy hung his head. “Li’l bittee,” he 
confessed. 

“Come along then.” Norton motioned the 
other to precede him. He believed this 
unexpected night prowler harmless, but 
took no chances on even him. “Quiet and 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 99 


we won’t wake the camp. I’ll pick you up 
some grub. You eat it and turn in.” 

The two stole cautiously into the center of 
the sleeping camp. Gam Fu obediently sat 
down on the ground while the guide went to 
rummage among the supplies for a midnight 
lunch for the boy. He found three biscuits, 
left from supper, and with these, some dried 
beef and a doughnut was on his way to where 
he had left Gam Fu when an imperative 
“ Hands up! Stand where you are!” cut the 
night air. 

David, rifle in hand, was advancing very 
determinedly on the guide. 

“Oh, come now. You don’t want to shoot 
me.” Norton’s voice was full of laughter. 

“No, I guess not.” David’s rifle came down 
from his shoulder in a hurry. “What are you 
up for? Anything new broken loose?” 

“We’ve got company,” Norton returned, 
“and you’ve roused the boys with challenging 
your poor old uncle.” 

Sounds of voices and hurrying feet pro¬ 
claimed that David’s sharp challenge had 
broken the sleep of their companions. 

“False alarm!” David raised his voice in 
a reassuring shout. “Don’t try any fancy 
shooting on us.” 



> > i 


100 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“What in Sam Hill’s the matter?” Hal 
reached the spot where David and Norton 
stood. He blinked into the rays of the guide’s 
flashlight. 

“ I’ll show you.” The lunch for Gam Fu 
still in one hand, Norton led the way to where 
his visitor sat, as placid as though his untimely 
arrival into the camp had not been the means 
of rousing the outfit. 

“Can you beat that?” Hal shouted. “My 
esteemed fren! Get up and shake hands, you 
Chinese night bird. I’ll say you’re welcome, 
even if you did rob us of some sleep. How 
long are you going to stay? Did you bring one 
trunk, or two?” 

“Me bringee nossin’ only me.” Gam Fu 
was on his feet with a broad grin of pure joy. 
“You tellee me, ‘You up ’gains’ it, Gam Fu, 
you comee see me, I help you.’ Now me here; 
walkee allee way. Me have li’l money, but no 
more job. This summer work no more. Me 
go ’long with you; cookee nice. You don’ pay 
nossin’. You please lettee me stay. Me velly 
good China boy.” 

“You’re a four-time winner, Gam Fu. How 
about it, gang?” Hal glanced inquiringly 
about the circle of smiling faces. “Any dis¬ 
senting voices? Shall we elect my esteemed 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 101 


fren, Gam Fu, to a useful and permanent 
office in the Long Trail outfit?” 

“Sure thing. I’m willing. Go ahead and 
feed him,” came from Kent, David and George 
respectively. Tony, Craig and Norton were 
none less willing. 

“You’re it, Gam Fu. I pronounce you an 
esteemed member of this happy band, and our 
motto is, ‘ Never go back on the outfit and the 
outfit will never go back on you.’” 


CHAPTER IX 


An Odd Fish 

HE addition of Gam Fu to the Long 



Trail outfit proved to be a decided 


advantage to all concerned. He was 
neat, cheerful, helpful and, like the majority 
of the Chinese, very industrious. Though the 
boys had taken their turn at cooking the meals 
with the utmost good nature, none of them 
liked to cook. Thus Gam Fu was a valuable 
asset to the camp. He took charge of the food 
supplies, dealt them out without an ounce of 
waste, which the boys had not, proving him¬ 
self a capable camp steward. 

“Life in the big woods is one lovely dream 
since we shook off the cooking act,” Hal de¬ 
clared one bright morning several days after 
the China boy’s arrival. “Maybe it’s a lazy 
man’s life not to cook our own grub, but it 
suits me.” 

“Going to take Gam Fu to Sweet Water 
with you, Hal?” Kent asked, looking up from 
the fishing tackle he was arranging. 

“Surest thing you know,” was Hal’s quick 


( 102 ) 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 103 


reply. “He’ll maybe find a cousin or brother 
or uncle among our Chinks. We’ve a bunch 
of them on the ranch. Our boys are always 
bumping into their relatives wherever they 
go.” 

Highly pleased with their camp, the boys 
had voted against moving on in a hurry. A 
trout stream, wide and deep, not more than 
five miles from the camp had furnished them 
with such excellent fishing they hated to leave 
it. This would be their last day there at the 
fascinating sport. Norton had advocated 
moving on the next day, as he was desirous of 
reaching the cabin in the deeper woods. In 
this region he assured the boys they would not 
only find just as good fishing but good hunting 
as well. 

The midnight arrival of Gam Fu had been 
the only incident of an exciting nature since 
the outfit had left Camp Williams. No hostile 
force had made itself felt in their present loca¬ 
tion or on the trail to the pleasant site they 
now occupied. 

“ Whoever’s going fishing with me, come 
along.” Kent had arranged his tackle to suit 
and was impatient to be gone. “I want to 
make a blue ribbon catch to-day.” 

Craig, David and Tony answered the call 


104 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


promptly. Hal, who was rummaging among 
his possessions for a certain brilliantly-colored 
trout fly, remained behind for three or four 
minutes, then set off after the quartette like 
a young whirlwind. George and Norton, the 
guide having declared himself tired of fish as 
a steady diet, had planned to spend the day 
partridge hunting. Gam Fu had assured 
them of the wonderful pot-pie he could make, 
provided he had the necessary birds. 

“I just happened to think,” said Hal as the 
five tramped along toward the mountain 
brook, “that one of our ponies will have to 
carry double when we move on. Gam Fu will 
have to be looked out for.” 

“You are behind the times, mi hermano ,” 
Tony said with an amused laugh. “Gam Fu 
has already spoken for his horse. He has the 
long head, that one.” 

“How’s that?” Hal asked quickly. “Now 
what’s he doped out? You’re right he has a 
long head, Tonums.” 

“He will ride one of the burros. Fie has 
said that he can load all the stuff on three and 
do it better than I. Fie told me he w'atched 
me load the burros at the shack and laughed 
a great deal to himself.” 

“He must have been spooking around our 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 105 


outfit from the minute he quit his job,” Kent 
said, when the burst of laughter occasioned by 
Tony’s information had subsided. “ Funny, 
we never once caught a glimpse of him.” 

“He wasn’t around when those robbers tried 
to run off the ponies or he’d have given the 
alarm,” Hal said positively. 

“No, he was not. He says he came just 
when w r e were bringing back the burros. He 
did not know what was the matter. Well, we 
shall see how much better he will load the 
burros than I. It will not break my heart to 
lose this job,” Tony ended with an amused 
shrug of his shoulders. 

“He says he won’t take any wages, but he’s 
going to get ’em just the same. If he’s as 
much of a hit at the end of this trip as he bids 
fair to be w r e’il trot him along regularly on our 
travels. He’s good and game, too. Isn’t 
afraid to stay at the camp alone. You know, 
there were times last summer when we all 
wanted to go hiking or riding together and 
couldn’t because we hated to leave the camp 
without somebody on the job. Oh, I tell you, 
my esteemed fren is some addition to this 
gang,” Hal wound up jocularly. 

“I daresay he’d take to his heels and let the 
camp look out for itself if any real danger 


106 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


threatened/’ remarked Craig. “Those China 
boys are apt to hike for cover if a storm 
threatens. At least he’s a help to us, and 
what he Eaves that you fellows wasted makes 
up for his grub.” 

“My, but you’re a stingy man on the grub 
question,” was Hal’s teasing rejoinder. He 
never failed to rag Craig for his close manage¬ 
ment when it came to supplies. 

“ If I let you run the supply end of this outfit 
twenty burros wouldn’t carry your budget,” 
Craig retorted, whereupon the two began a 
flippant argument in which the whole party 
soon became merrily involved. 

The stream reached where the boys pur¬ 
posed to fish, they followed its left bank for 
nearly a mile. They came at last to a place 
where the stream formed a deep pool which 
flowed out over a rocky formation of six or 
seven feet in height. Below this natural dam 
the water rippled and eddied in foamy shal¬ 
lows. In the pool, which was large and deep 
for the size of the stream, swam the bright, 
speckled mountain trout which the boys had 
found such delicious eating. They had come 
upon this pool only a day or two before. They 
had previously followed the stream in the 
opposite direction. It had been too late in the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 107 


afternoon when they reached it to do much 
fishing. Accordingly they had reserved it for 
their last day’s sport in that region. 

Once settled down to the business of trout 
angling, conversation among them ceased. 
Brook trout are shy fish and ready to dive out 
of sight at the slightest alarming sound. They 
were not proof against the lure of the bright 
flies, however, which bobbed about enticingly 
in the water, and the young fishermen began 
to pull them in fast. Luck stayed with them 
through the morning and early afternoon. 
Fascinated by the best catch they had yet 
made, the boys delayed eating the luncheon 
they had brought with them until after one 
o’clock. Tony had lugged a frying pan along 
and Craig brought the necessary butter and 
flour for frying the fish. When they did stop 
to eat, they feasted. 

Shortly after two they resumed their poles 
and lines, only to discover that their luck was 
on the wane. A select company of the largest 
trout they had seen refused to be enticed by 
the gay flies. Wise in their own way, they 
dipped and swam as indifferently as though 
no strange beings with designs on their lives 
were within many miles of the pool. Occa¬ 
sionally one leaped from the water as though 
in a spirit of bravado. 


108 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Say, those blamed fish are hep,” Hal said 
disgustedly. “They are wise to us, and don’t 
you think for a minute you can fool ’em. 
They’ve been sitting on the front row watch¬ 
ing their relatives get the hook and they see 
what it means.” 

“Does look that way.” Kent chuckled at 
the idea. “I’ve heard that trout were mighty 
wise. I’d like to land that big spotted fellow. 
He seems to be the main guy in the pool.” 

“I’ve been after him all day,” Craig broke 
in. “ I saw him early this morning, but that’s 
all.” 

“He is the foxy old grandfather of them all,” 
Tony said. “As for me, I have enough fish. 
My string is full and if I should start another 
it would only be for two or three. It grows 
late in the day for the trout to bite. After 
four o’clock all will hide away, or nearly all.” 

“Yes, I am for getting back to camp.” 
Hartwell Craig consulted his watch. “Three- 
forty-five. It will be five easily by the time 
we make camp.” 

“You fellows go ahead. I’m going to have 
one more try at this sly old duffer. Maybe 
he’ll come out and be sociable when it gets 
quiet around here,” Hal said pointedly. 

“That lets us out,” David laughed as he 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 109 


drew in his empty line and began putting up 
his tackle. 

“Oh, I don’t mean you, sensitive plant. 
You haven’t said three words since we struck 
this fish pond. A few more around like you 
and the fish would come right up to the bank. 
You’re a soothing influence.” 

“I can’t really believe you mean it. Can’t 
you say a good word for my friends?” 
David’s eyes were twinkling, though he spoke 
with pretended humility. 

“Nope; haven’t time. I’m going after this 
trout in dead earnest now, so beat it, all of 
you, and let me at him. I’ll have him baked 
on a board if I land him.” 

“See here, Hal, better not lag far behind 
us,” advised Craig. “You know your way 
back to camp, but it’s just as well not to let 
darkness overtake you. It comes suddenly 
in these deep woods.” 

“I won’t be more than twenty minutes 
behind you; maybe half an hour. I only 
want to see what this finicky fish will do when 
he thinks he’s alone at last.” 

“All right. I’ll take you at your word. So 
long.” 

Craig turned away. He and his compan¬ 
ions, each carrying a goodly string of speckled 


110 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


beauties, set off for camp without Hal. The 
sound of their voices soon died away. A deep 
hush settled down over the forest pool, broken 
only by the flow of the little fall and the com¬ 
plaining gurgle of the shallows below it. Hal 
changed his position on the bank and began 
craftily to trail his line with its gaudy bait 
through the water for the edification of the 
canny “granddaddy” trout. He sat very 
still; so still that for an instant he felt an odd 
drowsiness steal over him. 

“I could go to sleep doing this,” he said 
aloud, then clapped a hand over his own mouth 
in tardy recollection of his intent to be quiet. 
He continued to angle patiently, but with no 
success. The big trout he was trying to bait 
slipped under a greenish log at the bottom of 
the pool and stayed there 

“You win, you stubborn old chump!” he 
finally exclaimed in vexation. “Stay under 
that log forever, for all I care.” He flipped his 
line out of the water, quickly reduced his 
tackle to small compass and started briskly 
along the edge of the stream. 

He had not gone far when his lips puckered 
into a low, surprised whistle. Coming towards 
him, and splashing along through the shallows 
was a man. Though he was not more than a 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 111 


hundred yards off, Hal could not see his 
features plainly in the fast shadowing woods. 
Still there was something strangely familiar 
in the tall figure with its graceful upright 
carriage. 

The man came steadily on, as yet unaware 
of the presence of another. His gaze was 
fixed on the woods opposite to Hal's side of 
the brook. As he drew nearer to where Hal 
stood, the boy having stopped for the moment 
to watch him, he shifted his gaze and the eyes 
of the silent pair met. 

“Great Judas Priest!" The exclamation 
was followed by a quick rush on Hal's part. 
He sprang forward to greet the newcomer as 
the latter won out of the ripples and began 
clambering up the stream’s steep bank. 
“Who'd have though of seeing you?" 

“Or you?" The other grasped the welcom¬ 
ing hand Hal extended, yet in his gray eyes 
an expression of annoyance lived for a fleeting 
instant. He shook one leg, then the other, 
saying boyishly, “ Gee, these boots are as good 
as guaranteed! The water hasn’t got through 
them yet and I've been wading up stream for 
quite a piece." He glanced down approvingly 
at his high-laced leather boots. They showed 
merely a darker brown for their wetting. 


112 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Why wade when you can walk on dry 
ground?” Hal regarded the new arrival on 
the scene with a shade of curiosity. His broad 
black hat worn rather low over his face, 
dressed in brown corduroys, the motorist of 
the Natomah highway adventure looked 
younger than ever. The round tanned face 
under the sombrero appeared as youthful 
almost as Hal’s own. 

“There’s a reason,” was the somewhat grim 
reply. The change in the other’s voice re¬ 
minded Hal of the way the man had suddenly 
lashed out at the bandits on the day of the 
hold-up. “I took to the water to throw some 
people off the scent. I may as well tell you 
I’m up here on some pretty ticklish business 
and a certain gang are after me to get me. 
They put three bloodhounds on my trail 
yesterday, good ones, and I’ve had to hustle 
to keep them off it.” 

“Bloodhounds!” Hal cried out. “Whew, 
that is going some!” 

“All the good it will do ’em,” said the other 
with a contemptuous smile. “I’m a much 
wanted man up here, and not by the law. 
That’s all I can tell you just now and more 
than I ever told anyone else. You see, you 
and I are old pals.” His face lighted into 
warm friendliness with this last. 


AND THE OR AY CLOAKS 113 


“Put her there!” Hal impulsively shot 
out his hand for a second shake. This time 
it was indicative of his admiration for his 
acquaintance of the highroad. “Why not 
knock off tramping for to-night and come over 
to our camp? It's about six miles from here. 
We’ll put you up as long as you’ll stay. I 
want you to meet Craig and Norton and 
Whitney. They’re the part of the Long Trail 
outfit you didn’t see that day. If you’ve any 
fighting to do, our crowd will back you, and 
we can go some.” 

“Sorry, but I can’t do it.” Genuine regret 
looked out of the keen gray eyes. “I’ve got 
to make a certain point in these woods by to¬ 
morrow morning. Besides—” He paused, 
frowned then broke out with: “I can’t meet 
your friends just now; some day, perhaps. I 
know you and they would stand by me. I 
want you to do something for me, pardner. 
When you go back to camp, don’t tell them 
you met me.” 

“Well, of course not, if you say so, but—” 
Hal stopped, disappointment clouding his face. 

“Yes, I know how you feel about it, but 
you’ll understand why some day. You know 
I’m on the level, for you saw me run in that 
bunch of road agents. They were bad medi- 


8 




114 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


cine; real ones, not the robbers-for-a-day 
kind.” 

“On the level?” Hal laughed. “Do I 
know it? Well, rather!” 

A gleam of warm friendliness sprang into the 
eyes of the mysterious stranger. 

“You’re a good scout,” he said. “Wish 
you could come with me. I’d like nothing 
better. Now I must be on my way and you, 
too. You can hit camp by dark if you hustle.” 

“Which way are you going?” A streak of 
natural obstinacy in Hal made his will rise up 
briefly against being thus disposed of. He was 
very fond of having his own way, although he 
was not selfish. 

“I’d rather not tell you. I’ll make my next 
move after you’re gone. Trust me to know 
what’s best this trip, old pal, and don’t take 
offense.” The gray-eyed stranger had quickly 
divined Hal’s inward rebellion. 

“Guess that’s all I can do.” Hal gave a 
short laugh. He had a mind to turn on his 
heel and walk away without even saying good¬ 
bye. Instead he stood still and looked his 
companion squarely in the face. The other 
returned the measuring glance frankly and 
with a half smile. 

“So long,” he said. “Now beat it. You 
and I will meet again before very long.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 115 


“ Good-bye. ” For the third time the hands 
of the two met. Hal turned to go, walked a 
few steps and stopped: “If you get stuck at 
any time, hunt up our camp. We’re going to 
move to-morrow, twenty miles due south of 
here, to a log cabin Norton knows of. Guess 
you could find us.” 

“I’ll not forget, and thank you. You’re a 
real pal.” The reply carried hearty apprecia¬ 
tion of Hal’s generous spirit. 

Still regretful over the hasty end the 
stranger had put to their meeting, Hal strode 
along through the gloom, wondering busily 
who and what the other man might be. He 
was certain that the motorist he and his chums 
had befriended was connected in some w T ay 
with the upholding of the law. Young as he 
looked, Hal remembered his graying hair and 
decided that he was “some person.” 

“If any one else had told me to get out and 
do it on the jump I’d have sat on him in a 
hurry,” Hal said to himself. “There’s some¬ 
thing in that fellow’s voice you can’t get by. 
And to think, I can’t even go back to camp 
and tell the rest I bumped into him! Tough 
luck!” 


CHAPTER X 


A Man Hunt 

ERE just in time to prevent a 
search party from going out after 
you,” Norton greeted as Hal 
walked into camp considerably later than 
twilight. “Let’s see your prize trout.” 

“Go and stand on the bank of the brooklet 
if you want a look at him/’ Hal flung back. 
“He’s there yet, tucked under a rotten log. 
You couldn’t land that shy gazabo in a hun¬ 
dred years. My, but that supper smells 
good!” Hal sniffed the air, redolent with the 
appetizing odor of frying fish. 

“Does it? TJm-m-m!” George put on an 
exaggeratedly hungry look and rubbed his 
stomach. “While you were playing tag with 
that finny friend of yours we were working. 
We rustled up the wood for the campfire, got 
it going and helped Gam Fu clean fish. Here 
you come along. You haven’t done a stroke 
of work and you get your board same as 
though you’d earned it. Do you call that 
fair?” 



( 116 ) 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 117 


“ Let’s not talk about the labor question.” 
Hal raised an objecting hand. “I thought we 
were going to have a wonderful pot-pie that 
you were going to shoot up the filling for.” 

“ You’re ahead of time. We got the birds, 
and don’t you forget it. To-morrow’s pot-pie 
day. We’re going to have a grand feast when 
we hit our new stand.” 

Gam Fu’s shrill cry of, “Comee long! 
Comee gettee,” sent the whole outfit scur¬ 
rying for supper. It was later that night than 
usual. The China boy had held it back pur¬ 
posely on account of Hal’s absence. Devoted 
to the latter, he calmly put Hal’s interests 
ahead of all others. 

As the hungry outfit ate they kept up a 
running fire of conversation concerning the 
day’s sport. Hal continued to regret that he 
could not tell his comrades of his meeting with 
the Natomah motorist. He pictured to him¬ 
self their surprise and longed to “hand it” to 
them. He had given his promise of silence, 
however, and must therefore abide by it. 

Supper over, the campers followed their 
usual custom of sitting about the campfire, 
taking an indolent pleasure in its ruddy glow 
and flicker. The day had been cool, and now 
night had brought a sharp tang to the rare air 


118 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


which made the warmth of the fire welcome 
and produced a comfortable feeling of drowsi¬ 
ness. Conversation gradually trailed off into 
pleasant little silences. The tired woodsmen 
yawned frequently and blinked sleepily at the 
clear, bright flames rising from the dry, resin¬ 
ous wood which one or another of the boys 
kept throwing on the fire. 

“ Lead-me-to-o-bed," George finally said be¬ 
tween yawns, “or else put—out the—fire so I 
won't—fall—into it." 

“We are the stupid ones to sit here half 
asleep," Tony agreed, rising and stretching 
his long arms above his head. ‘‘Buenos noches, 
amigos. (Good-night friends.) I go to take 
my rest." 

“You're not the only one." Kent rose, 
also, to indulge in the comfort of a good 
stretch. 

“I don't know when I've felt so tired," 
commented Craig. “It's the change in the 
weather, I—" 

He got no further. Out of the night rose a 
sudden sound which dispelled the outfit's 
general drowsiness. The distant baying of 
dogs assaulted their ears, the noise proceeding 
from a point considerably below the camp. 

“That's odd." Craig was on his feet listen- 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 119 


ing intently, “I mean, to hear dogs baying at 
this time of night. There must be a hunting 
party on the trail. Hope they give us a wide 
berth. I’m too tired to be hospitable. So are 
the rest of you.” 

“ Those dogs are bloodhounds, or I miss my 
guess,” was Norton’s somewhat startling 
opinion. “ There’s no mistaking the bay of a 
bloodhound. I should say there was a man 
hunt going on down there.” 

“A man hunt?” George, who had been half 
lying on his side, straightened up in a hurry. 
His remark was echoed by Kent. 

At the words man hunt Hal started slightly. 
Could it be his mysterious friend the dogs were 
trailing? He had said that there were men 
with bloodhounds after him. Yes, undoubt¬ 
edly it was. 

“Yes,” Norton was replying to George's 
eager inquiry, “that’s about all bloodhounds 
are used for. I don’t like them as hunting 
dogs; nor do hunters. They’re too savage. 
They’ll tear game to bits, and they can’t be 
trusted except on a man hunt.” 

“By George, that howling is getting louder!” 
David exclaimed. “Sounds as though the 
hounds were heading this way.” 

“Let’s turn in, pronto. Then if the gang of 


120 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


men come up here and there’s not a light show¬ 
ing, maybe they’ll give us the go-by,” said 
George only half seriously. “ Probably the 
dogs would nose us out, though.” 

“It is likely, Sehor Norton, that these men 
have seen the light of our campfire before 
this,” Tony pointed out. “If they have only 
the interest in their own business, they may 
not bother us, quizas (perhaps).” He gave 
his characteristic shrug. 

“What’s the matter with you, old sober¬ 
sides?” David suddenly rallied Hal, who, 
for once, had listened to his friends in silence. 
“You ought to be all keyed up about this man 
hunt.” 

“Oh, hang the man hunt!” Hal spoke 
almost crossly. “If one of those dogs gets 
gay around this camp, I’ll plug him full of 
lead. I’m going to get my gun and have it all 
ready.” 

“Don’t do anything of the sort, Hal,” 
Craig said decisively. “We’ll keep guns out 
of it, if these fellows behind the dogs hit the 
camp. I daresay they won’t stay long if they 
do pass here.” 

“Well, if they’re after a man, we haven’t 
seen anyone around here but ourselves. That 
lets us out,” Kent said. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 121 


“Hear that!” George called out. He had 
walked to the left of the camp and stood peer¬ 
ing down into the black depth below him. 
Half in a spirit of mischief he raised his head 
and howled in a fairly good imitation of the 
hounds. 

“Cut it out. You’ll never make a hit as a 
bloodhound/’ David called to him. “Do you 
see any lights down there?” 

“Yep,” George called back after a lengthy 
survey. “I just saw one bobbing along. 
There’s another! They’re headed up trail, 
too.” 

“Why not, after the yawls you gave? And 
you were going to keep so quiet,” jeered 
David. 

Now wide awake, the party received this 
news with a certain amount of interest. Be¬ 
fore many more minutes it became evident 
that the dogs were very near to camp. Pres¬ 
ently, by the aid of the firelight, Tonjr, who 
had joined George, picked up one of the beasts 
running in a parallel direction to the camp. 
Directly afterward he saw two more shadowy 
forms follow the first. 

“The dogs have gone on. I believe they 
have lost the scent,” he said shrewdly. “Ah, 
but the men are not far behind. You hear 
their voices?” 


122 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


The shouts of one man rallying another in 
the darkness now floated up distinctly to the 
campers. Suddenly a stentorian voice from a 
point not more than a hundred feet from where 
George and Tony stood bawled out: 

“Hello, up there! Hello, hello!” 

“Hello yourself/ 7 George bellowed back. 
“ Who are you, and what’s your business with 
us?” 

f “That’s a fine way to talk,” Norton said 
disgustedly as a ripple of laughter went the 
rounds at George’s impudent return. “If 
that happens to be anyone worth while as a 
woodman, he’ll think us a courteous lot of 
pikers.” 

Hastily crossing the space to where the two 
boys stood, he shouted: “We are in camp 
here. What can we do for you? Kindly 
come up where we may see you and talk to 
you.” 

“All right, we getcha,” a voice hastily re¬ 
plied. “We’ll be there pretty quick and letcha 
know what we want.” 

A brief silence ensued. The Long Trail 
outfit awaited the night visitors’ next move 
with some curiosity. The answer to Norton’s 
hail had sounded fully as impudent as George’s 
reply. The watchers could now distinguish 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 123 


several voices engaged in a loud conversation. 
The trailers had stopped for a brief confab 
before appearing in the light of the campfire. 

By this time the others, even to Hal, had 
joined their three friends on the slope. The 
outfit stood drawn up in an almost compact 
group to meet the newcomers. Hal had an 
impulse to remain behind. He had promised 
his unknown friend to give out no information 
concerning him. Suppose, in case these men 
were trailing the motorist, they were to ask 
him point blank if he had seen the other. Hal 
refused to lie. Still, a refusal to answer the 
question would be almost the same as an 
affirmative. He first decided to keep out of 
the way. Then he made up his mind he could 
“ get away ” with the situation somehow. His 
great love of excitement forbade lagging be¬ 
hind when there was “ anything doing.” 

Craig had prudently caught up the large 
searchlight. He proposed to have plenty of 
light on the scene. Since their stirring en¬ 
counters in Nevada with bad men he trusted 
no one on sight. 

The clear white rays revealed four men, 
none of them specially prepossessing. Cer¬ 
tainly they were not of the class socially to 
which the outfit belonged. They were more 


124 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


or less roughly dressed and not in the way of 
woodsmen. Norton surveyed them with an 
impersonal coldness which meant disapproval 
barely concealed. 

“We’re officers of the law,” began the fore¬ 
most man, a weasened little fellow with 
crooked features and shifty eyes. “You 
musta heard our dogs way b’low here. We’re 
after a mighty tough gink, and we got reason 
to think he come this way. I’m a special cop. 
I been trailin’ him with three dogs for a week. 
He’s wanted for half a dozen killin’s.” 

“Yes, but you’d never wise it t’see him,” 
broke in another of the quartette; the man 
with the stentorian voice. Even now the 
boom of his voice set the echoes flying. “He’s 
a slick one. If you happen t’butt inta him 
he’ll try to put it over on you’t he’s a special 
tec. He’s even run pals of his into the crib t’ 
save his own sneakin’ skin.” 

“We have not seen a stranger since we made 
camp here,” Norton said coolly. 

“Nor do we wish to,” put in Craig. “We 
are not interested in anything but our own 
affairs, and this certainly does not concern us.” 

“Oh, don’t it?” came the nettled retort. 
“Guess it’d concern you if this fella came 
dowm on you and held some of you up when 
you wasn’t expectin’ it.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 125 


“I guess we could take care of ourselves." 
This from Kent, who stood nearest the man 
with the loud voice. 

“Mebbe you could, but that ain't say- 
in'—" 

“ You're the bunch that was at the Williams 
camp." The weasened-faced man cut into the 
conversation. “I see you ridin' the ponies 
round the camp. Some pretty nifty horse¬ 
flesh you got." 

“Our ponies suit us," Craig answered 
stiffly. Although none of the newcomers had 
said anything to offend, their manner was half 
insolent. 

“Look out they don't suit this robber we're 
tollin' you about," half sneered the shifty-eyed 
man. “He don't think nothin' of runnin' off 
a buncha ponies. Funny you ain't seen no 
sign of him! He's been loose in these woods 
just about as long as youse has been ridin' 'em. 
He's a tall fella with black hair, turnin' gray. 
He's got a round face like a kid and looks like 
one when his hat's on. Sure you ain’t seen no 
one like that?" 

“We have not. Let that end the matter." 
Norton's tones hinted of sternness. His 
judgment ticketed the visitors as rank unde¬ 
sirables. 


126 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“ Seems to me you’re pretty uppish,” 
sneered a third member of the party, a stocky 
man whose red face was half covered by a 
heavy black beard. “ We’re officers jus’s we 
said, an’ you gotta right to tell us the truth 
about this fella. They’s a reward for his 
capture, live or croaked.” 

“What’s that to these people, Jake?” 
laughed the little man disagreeably. “ Money 
ain’t nothin’ to a man that c’ud roll in it.” 
He stared hard at Craig. 

“ Enough of this,” Craig said sharply. 
“Must I repeat that we have not seen and 
know nothing whatever of this man you claim 
is an outlaw. If, as you state, you are officers 
of the law, you ought to be able to go about 
your business without calling on strangers. 
We will bid you good-night.” 

“Huh! Call us liars an’ be done w T ith it. 
You’re too fresh, Mister Hartwell Craig. 
Oh, we know you, all right. It’s our business 
to know folks. If you get trimmed by road 
agents, you smarties, don’t come hollerin’ to 
the cops o’ this county.” The red-faced man 
glowered at Craig. 

“You don’t know us at all.” Hal had 
stayed out of the altercation as long as he 
could. “ I’d be sorry for any road agents that 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 127 


came up against this crowd. We’d lick them 
with one hand; eat ’em alive. We wouldn’t 
have to use dogs to go after ’em.” Hal 
laughed tauntingly. 

“ Close yer face, freshie, or you may get it 
slapped,” warned the big-voiced man all in a 
bluster. 

“Try it; try it,” invited Hal. “I dare you 
to try it.” 

“Come on. What’s the use’n wastin’ time 
on these slobs?” The little man turned and 
started down the hill. He was evidently the 
leader of the four. His companions hesitated 
only a second and then followed him without 
another word to the campers. One of them 
began whistling to the dogs, the animals hav¬ 
ing run past the camp. 

“If they 1 re officers of the law, then so am 
I,” George said with fine scorn. “They look 
more like horse thieves themselves. They 
didn’t want to fight. They’re a set of cow¬ 
ards.” 

“Maybe they’re the ones who tried to nab 
our ponies at the Williams,” David said with 
sudden inspiration. 

“ No. One of those two men was very tall,” 
Tony began positively. “The other— I 
do not know.” He paused to weigh David’s 


128 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


surmise. “One of these may be he, quizas. I 
remember he was small and a good rider.” 

“They’ve got Craig’s number,” Hal now 
said. “I don’t recall seeing any of them at 
the lumber camp. Still, that little shrimp’s 
voice sounds familiar. I’ve heard it before, 
but where? ” Hal gave his own head a vigor¬ 
ous slap to induce the return of truant recol¬ 
lection. 

“Easy enough for them to find out who we 
were,” was Craig’s nettled response. “A set 
of rogues, or I’m no judge. Goodness knows 
what they really were after. They may be 
using the dogs as a bluff to go with this tale of 
theirs. Their real object may be quite 
different.” 

“The dogs are trailing—” Hal stopped 
as suddenly as he began. About to assure 
Craig that the dog part of the tale was no 
bluff, he remembered in time to check him¬ 
self. “Think they’ve anything framed on 
us?” he said instead and in some confusion. 

“What could they have?” Kent asked. 
“Unless they’ve an eye on the horses. They 
and our guns are about all the valuables we 
have along with us. Say,” he raised his voice, 
seized with a new idea. “Those scrubs de¬ 
scribed that fellow we helped out on the road 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 129 


to Natomah. He had a young-looking face 
and black hair, turning gray. He was tall, too. 
But he was no outlaw; just the opposite.” 

“What was it those fellows said about this 
bandit they're supposed to be chasing turning 
against his own friends and running them in? ” 
George put forward. “That guy in the road¬ 
ster knew two of those toughs. He called 
them Red Pete and Prairie Lute. I heard 
him. So did you, Hal. Nice idea if we had 
turned in and helped a bandit hand it to his 
pals.” 

“I don’t believe he was crooked,” Kent 
said with conviction. “I think he was square 
as a die. Why, Hal rode up to the jail with 
him and helped put away those yeggs!” 

“Come out of it, George, you suspicious old 
turkey.” Hal took a quick part in the talk. 
“Don’t care if these rascals did describe our 
motorist. He’s all right . I’m all for him that 
he’s straight goods.” 

Hal was inwardly assuring himself that he 
believed positively all he was saying. Still, 
in the back of his mind lurked an uneasy 
doubt. He had seen the stranger in question 
deliver his prisoners at the jail. What he had 
missed seeing was the quick revealing of the 
motorist’s official badge which the latter had 


130 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


shown to the turnkey. It was therefore borne 
upon Hal that he had no proof of the fascinat¬ 
ing stranger’s integrity. Only yesterday this 
very man had admitted to him that he was 
being trailed by bloodhounds. His having 
waded up stream also bore out that statement. 
While outward appearances were against the 
rough-looking four who had described Hal’s 
mysterious friend and claimed him to be a 
notorious bandit, Hal’s own scanty private 
knowledge of the gray-haired man w r as not 
reassuring. 

Meanwhile the rough visitors to the camp 
were retreating down the hill, dogs and all, in 
a particularly bad humor. 

“D’ye think them frosty yaps was lyin’? 
D’ye think they saw him?” This from the 
fourth member of the party who had not 
opened his mouth during the interview. He 
was a big hulking man with a weak, evil face. 

“Naw. Them kinda stiffs is afraid to lie. 
They’re al’ays hollerin’ about bein’ too straight 
t’ yam,” the little man said contemptuously. 
“What was the matter wdth you that you 
didn’t open y’r head? You had a right t’help 
us out, you sneakin’ welcher.” 

“Don’t you go callin’ no names,” blustered 
the other. “I don’t stand for it. See?” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 131 


“ Go take a run an’ jump up in the air/' was 
the little man’s derisive retort. “When I 
see you make a pass at me I’ll know you’ve 
found a little sand.” V, 

■' \ 

“See here, Pop,” the man with the black 
beard began, “those fellas are scrappers, the 
hull gang of ’em. He says we gotta do ’em 
up an’—” 

“Close yer trap.” The order came savagely 
from the little man. “Keep what you know 
behind it. If he’d heard you say that youda 
been up for discipline. What’s to be, as he 
says it’s to be, is goin’ to be. If it ain’t, 
you’n I’s goin’ to be among the missin’.” 


CHAPTER XI 


“Hey, Starlight!” 

EXT morning the lively stress of 



packing, loading and preparing to 


move on to their more permanent 


camp served to dislodge the unpleasant in¬ 
cident of the previous night from the Long 
Trail Boys’ thoughts. It was only a twenty- 
mile move, but, on account of the slowness of 
the burros, the boys decided to take all day in 
which to make it. 

It was a gala day for one member of the 
outfit in particular. Due to mischievous Hal’s 
plans, the China boy’s first ride on a burro 
was to meet with a celebration. Mounted on 
the smallest of the four burros, his short legs 
ended in slippered feet gayly decked with two 
enormous paper rosettes, one green, the other 
pink. His round head was crowned with a 
tall white pasteboard hat which Kent had 
fashioned from a cake box. On his right arm 
was draped a Yale banner. Hal had acci¬ 
dentally come across it tucked into the inner 
flap of his emergency kit and jubilantly 


( 132 ) 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 133 


brought it out for the occasion. David had 
painstakingly made a badge from the white 
satin lining of his checked traveling cap and 
printed on it: “High and Exalted Order of 
Burro Lodge, Number Four.” This, with 
Hal’s cherished talisman, occupied the front 
of Gam Fu’s long blouse. 

“My, but you do look sweet, Gam Fu!” 
George said gushingly when the decorating 
was finished, with some difficulty, owing to 
the China boy’s mild objection to each new 
feature. 

“Believe me, he does, only he thinks he has 
to put up a kick. You can only be dressed up 
like this once in your life, old top,” Hal said 
with a wag of his head. “Now don’t be sassy 
and spoil our hard work.” 

“Me gladee only one day,” sighed Gam Fu, 
meekly resigning himself to overwhelming 
fate. 

“Oh, come, now. You know you don’t 
mean that. Just think of the ride you’re 
going to have. Put that down in your memory 
book.” Hal made a low bow before the gig¬ 
gling Chinese lad and escorted him to the burro 
he was to ride. 

At lunch that day, Gam Fu was still com¬ 
pelled to be guest of honor. The boys cooked 


134 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


the lunch, chased him away every time he 
came near the fire and insisted on waiting on 
him. He pranced about in such genuine dis¬ 
tress at this unwelcome service that Hal 
threatened to dump him on his back and sit 
on him if he did not calm down. 

In spite of their leisurely progress the riders 
reached the cabin by daylight and with the 
prospect of getting fairly well settled before 
dark. 

“A jim-dandy of a shack!” Hal delightedly 
pronounced the new quarters. “ These heavy 
logs are all to the mustard. This is the kind 
of hut our great-great-granddaddies used to 
put up to keep out the cold, heat, Indians, 
wild beasts or any little nuisances like that. 
I’Ll say this cabin’s seen a hundred and fifty 
years. Probably it lias a history. How about 
it, Norton?” 

“ Yes, it has, but I’m too busy to give it out 
now.” Norton was rummaging among the 
general supplies for a roll of wire netting he 
had purposely bought for the windows. 

“I wouldn’t listen to it if you wanted to spill 
it,” Hal retorted grandly. “I’m very busy 
myself. Don’t bother me.” 

“Doing what?” George could not resist 
so good a chance to tease Hal. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 135 


“ Rubbering at our new home. Where are 
your eyes? I’ve seen it inside, now I’m going 
to pike out and squint at the exterior. Ahem!” 
Hal swung out, whistling. 

The cabin into which the trail makers had 
moved was a two-roomed dwelling. There 
was a large square front room and a kitchen 
about half the size of the main room. The 
small square windows were up high and un¬ 
glassed. Norton purposed to net them to 
keep out pestiferous insects. The cabin held 
no furniture other than a long rough-boarded 
table and a number of primitive-looking 
benches, worn smooth by use. Two of the 
largest of these the boys dragged into the 
living room and ranged against the wall on 
one side. This left three sides clear for bough 
beds. They were to be the order. Without 
having stopped to do much more than carry 
their stuff into the shack, the Long Trailers 
had set about gathering fresh pine and balsam 
boughs for their fragrant beds. 

Gam Fu divested himself of his honors 
instantly on arrival amid hoots of “Quitter!” 
and devoted himself to an industrious over¬ 
hauling of the kitchen supplies. A roof over 
his head suited him far better than the open. 
It was a rare joy to have once more “a nicee 
placee puttee allee eats.” 


136 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“I could live in this place forever,” Kent 
remarked at supper that night. “I see some 
bully larks ahead of us here.” 

“None better/ 7 Hal agreed, passing his 
plate for a third helping of the promised and 
toothsome pot-pie. “But, see here, Craig 
and Norton, bosses of this expedition, I don’t 
have to sleep indoors nights if I see fit not to, 
do I? Blamed if I can give up sleeping out 
under a tree and grabbing in ozone by the 
mouthful.” 

“Suit yourself about that, but keep within 
camp limits; say, not more than a hundred 
yards from the cabin. While I think of it, 
watch yourselves doubly up here when you 
are on the move. This is a fine region to get 
lost in. You think you know your way, and 
first thing you do is miss it. This is the wildest 
part of the state and these whopping, big¬ 
trunked trees look all alike. We’ll practice in 
all directions from here until you get your 
bearings. But for a while blaze your trails 
unless you are with me. I know this country; 
you don’t. It took me a while to learn the 
tricks of it, too.” 

“Oh, boys, we’ll never get lost up here, 

Sure, Mike, we’ll never get lost up here.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 137 


Hal had sprung from the bench on which 
he had been sitting and begun to sing at top 
voice. Around the table he marched, beating 
out an accompaniment to his noisy song on his 
galvanized plate with his spoon. 

“Here, I can sing as loud as that. I call 
those yowls, singing, but—” Kent jumped 
up and fell in behind Hal, taking care to beat 
time. 

George, Tony and David also scrambled 
into the line and the five circled the table, 
again and again, making a terrific din. Gam 
Fu innocently poked his head into the room 
to see what was up. Hal swooped down upon 
him and swept him into the procession, trot¬ 
ting the protesting China boy ahead of him 
until the march broke up with the usual three 
cheers and a few select college yells. The 
Long Trail Boys were at the height of high 
spirits and ready to seize any pretext to cut 
loose. 

The next morning found them still effer¬ 
vescing noisy glee. They galloped off at sun¬ 
rise for a ride, whooping like a war party of 
Comanches, paying no heed to Norton’s 
shouted instructions to wait until he was 
ready to^go with them. Out of his sight, 
they calmed down sufficiently to keep track 


138 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


of their course, and, by doing a little blazing, 
they found their way back to the cabin two 
hours later without difficulty. 

At the end of a week they had begun to 
think themselves quite expert at keeping 
their bearings. There were few of the marked, 
narrow trails, such as they had followed in 
Nevada. Their way lay, for the most part, 
among serried ranks of great trees. For long 
spaces they would find forest aisles, broad and 
narrow, formed by row upon row of trees. It 
was these very rows of trees that would be 
likely to confuse them into losing their way. 
In many places the ground, strewn thickly 
with pine needles, was level. Again they 
would encounter ravines so wild and pre¬ 
cipitous, they could find no means of getting 
across them without riding for a mile or more 
along the edge. 

The ponies went everywhere and were 
sturdy climbers. The boys had to acknowl¬ 
edge them as wise, strong and dependable as 
the Sweet Water Ranch ponies. Hal's pony, 
Starlight, possessed a spirit of daring which 
exactly suited his harum-scarum master. 
Starlight would unhesitatingly rise to a narrow 
chasm, landing lightly on the other side. 
Again he would walk a log over a ravine with 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 139 


Hal on his back. Sometimes the log would 
be a decidedly narrow one, but the daring 
pony’s little feet never faltered nor slipped. 
Hal grew to adore him, and with reason. 

“ You are about the luckiest guy that I ever 
saw,” George said to Hal one morning as the 
two cantered side by side along a natural forest 
avenue that would probably end in an un¬ 
looked-for rock strewn area made more im¬ 
penetrable by rank growths of bushes and 
weeds. The two boys were bound for a blue 
little lake, hardly more than a mountain pond, 
to which Norton had guided them on their 
fourth day at the cabin. 

George, who was specially fond of fishing, 
had seen bass in the lake and prevailed upon 
Hal to go there for the day, the others having 
planned a day’s rest from trailing. This 
inactivity did not suit Hal, who had to be 
always on the go out of sheer restlessness. 
George had his mind fixed on bass fishing. 
Hence the two had combined forces and 
started out, Hal assuring Norton that he 
couldn’t get lost if he tried. 

“Why am I so lucky?” Hal promptly 
wanted to know. 

“Because you picked the best pony in the 
bunch without trying. I’ve been watching 


140 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


him as we rode along and he certainly is a 
high-stepper.” George cast a look of unen- 
vious admiration at Starlight. 

“He’s the best little sport in the animal 
kingdom,” Hal said with pride. “All you 
have to do is give him his head. He’s wise, 
wise, wise. He knows just how wide a ditch 
he can jump and how narrow a log he can 
walk. He’s game, but never takes chances.” 

“Somebody trained him, maybe, long before 
you got him.” 

“Perhaps. I know one thing. Nobody 
but Hal Brent is ever going to have him. By 
that I don’t mean you. I mean that I wouldn’t 
sell him for a million dollars.” 

“Don’t blame you. Say, aren’t we getting 
to be the real thing in woodsmen, though? 
We’ve done pretty nearly fifteen miles of 
wilderness to-day and never fliwered on the 
trail. Good work! ” 

“I have yet to get lost in the woods,” Hal 
boasted. “Norton said the other night that 
he couldn’t see why I hadn’t, I’m such a reck¬ 
less runabout. Guess you are right. I must 
be lucky.” 

The lake for which they were bound they 
reached before noon. Hal had already named 
it Pyramid Pond on account of a high pyramid- 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 141 


like rock which stood up almost in the center 
of the miniature body of water. At the base 
of this central rock were several others, low, 
and one or two of them comparatively flat. 
It was on these Hal's eyes lighted enviously. 

''That's where we ought to be,” he said. 
"I'll bet we could haul in the fish by the 
bushel. No way of getting there unless we 
swim. We're not more than thirty feet from 
that aggravating stone pile. Wish I'd thought 
of it. I'd have brought along a coil of rope 
and lashed a log raft together. Better plan¬ 
ning next time. We'll come here again soon.” 

Hal settled himself to fish, but the thought 
of what he was missing by not being on that 
coveted rock pile tantalized him. 

"Hey, George,” he called out shortly after 
the two fishermen had eaten their lunch, 
"I'm a thick head. This water's not deep at 
all. I'll bet I could wade out to those rocks 
and the water not come up to my waist. It's 
good and sunny there. I'd soon dry off. It 
wouldn't feaze me any more than being out 
in a rain storm.” 

"How about when you come back? You 
wouldn't get the sun here hot enough then to 
dry you.” George squinted up at the king of 
day. The sun was already preparing for his 


142 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


daily downward hike across the blue un¬ 
clouded sky. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t stay long. I’m going to 
slosh along a few steps and see what happens.” 
Hal had risen from the bank of the lake and 
was fixing his tackle for the attempt. 

‘‘ You’re foolish. Look at all the fish you’ve 
got. They’re no better out by those stones.” 

“That’s not the point.” To think was to 
act with Hal. He waded into the water as he 
spoke. Now he splashed along for several 
feet without further remark, gratified to find 
the water was not yet up to his knees. “The 
point is—” 

He broke off with a gasping “Ge-e wh-i-z!” 
The bottom of the pond seemed to him to have 
sharply withdrawn itself from his sliding feet. 
Next instant he was in water up to his neck, 
his fishing tackle thrown from him as he 
struck out and swam toward shore. It was 
only a minute or two until he had come to 
wading ground again, but Hal had ex¬ 
perienced a sensation he had not looked for. 

“This pond’s a grand sham!” Hal walked 
out of the lake, shaking himself like a water 
spaniel. “Where would Hal have been if he 
hadn’t known how to swim? Deep! The 
treacherous thing goes clear through to Asia 
Minor!” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 143 


“You’re a sight.” George was laughing 
immoderately at his dripping chum. “Well, 
I told you to pass it up.” 

“Certainly you did. I don’t know whether 
I’d better drape myself over a tree until I get 
dry, or just hang up my clothes for a while. 
Guess I won’t do either. I’ll run around 
briskly; play solitaire tag until I get dry. 
You may have all the rest of the fish in this 
snare. I don’t want ’em.” 

By half-past three Hal’s clothing was not 
more than slightly damp. He had taken off 
his coat and blouse and hung them up, while 
he frisked about in his riding trousers and 
union suit. He would have proposed starting 
back then, but George was having a run of 
luck and he let him enjoy it. At half-past four 
George announced himself ready to go and the 
two boys laden with a heavy catch started for 
the spot where they had tied the horses. 

“Hey, Starlight!” Hal called out his pet’s 
name then clicked out a signal which the pony 
knew. He had reached the edge of the thicket 
without haring caught sight of his pony. 

“Hey, Star-” Hal’s call trailed into 

sudden silence. “George!” This time Hal 
shouted. “Oh, George, Starlight’s bolted 
and so has Puff. They’re gone!” 



CHAPTER XII 


By Moonlight 

**^^>(ONE?” George had reached Hal 

I -w- and was staring amazedly at the 
empty thicket where he had last 
seen the ponies. ‘‘ They haven’t bolted. Puff 
couldn’t have got away from the tie-up I gave 
him. Somebody’s sneaked in and nabbed 
’em.” 

Hal stood still. The shock of finding Star¬ 
light missing completely floored him for the 
moment. He recalled that he had seen both 
horses placidly eating leaves just before his 
ducking; and that was the last he had noticed 
them, being occupied with his own misfortune. 
Norton had always cautioned the boys to keep 
their horses in sight wherever and whenever 
they happened to dismount. Neither he nor 
George had obeyed that order to the letter 
to-day. 

“Let’s go and hunt for them a little— No; 
what’s the use? You’re right, George. They’ve 
been stolen from here. One of them might 
have slipped his rope: but not both. And we 

( 144 ) 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 145 


never heard 'em whinny or the sound of any 
one around here! Sneaking skulkers!'' Hal's 
usually pleasant features were working with 
anger. His rage rose like a flame against 
those who had spirited away his beloved 
Starlight. George appeared no less long¬ 
faced over the loss of Puff. 

“ We've got to get out of here," George said 
practically and with a note of anxiety. “The 
ponies are gone. We'll have to walk back to 
camp. Goodness knows if we'll ever see those 
two ponies again. It's one thing to lose a 
horse up here and another to get him back." 

“I'll never rest till I get Starlight back," 
Hal cried out sharply. “I'll find the thief 
that stole him before I leave these diggings. 
See if I don't. And you said I was lucky! 
Don’t you ever say a word again to me about 
luck," he ended bitterly. 

“I take it back. You're a Jonah from 
Jonahtown." George tried to speak cheer¬ 
fully. Being a wage earner, he was more 
philosophic under sudden misfortune than 
high-stepping, care-free Hal. “Come on, 
Brent. Honestly, we've got to make a quick 
move for camp." 

“I know it." With a long, searching, 
mournful look at the thicket where the ponies 


10 


146 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


had so lately been, Hal swung into the trail 
behind George. For a little the two talked 
over the catastrophe. Gradually Hal fell 
silent and stalked along, sad and moody. 

“ Getting dark,” he finally said, after they 
had been hiking at a fast clip for over an hour. 
“What time is it? The water got into my 
watch, I guess. It’s stopped. It can stay 
stopped for all I care. ,, 

“Six-fifteen.” George put away his watch 
with a sigh. “Fm getting hungry. Got any 
eats. I ate all I brought at lunch.” 

“One sandwich.” Hal produced it from 
his knapsack and gave it to George. “Take 
it,” he said, as George hesitated. “Fm too 
broken up for grub.” 

George ate hungrily as he walked. Not for 
an instant did they dare stop on the way, 
though both were thirsty. Each was burdened 
with a long heavy catch of bass and this did 
not make for speedy traveling. 

By seven o’clock the last flicker of light died 
out of the wilderness, leaving them to pick 
their course as best they might. For a while 
they managed to see their way by the aid of 
George’s pocket flashlight. Unfortunately 
the battery ran out and they were again in 
darkness. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 147 


“We'd better make some torches/ 7 Hal 
said. “Next thing to do is find the stuff in 
the dark. We're a fine pair of woodsmen. 
You didn’t know your battery needed renew¬ 
ing, and neither of us had sense enough to 
gather torch wood before dark. And a while 
back we were throwing bouquets at ourselves.” 

“We’re a couple of muffs,” George wearily 
agreed. “Somehow, it doesn’t seem nearly 
so dark as it was an hour ago. Have you 
noticed that?” 

Hal stopped and peered up through the 
trees at the fast lightening of the night sky. 
“Hurray, George!” he cried out. “The 
moon’s coming up, and it’s full moon, too. 
Remember how light it was last night? I’d 
forgotten the moon myself until this minute. 
That lets us out. We can make good time by 
moonlight.” 

Vastly cheered by the pale, increasing light, 
the two lads quickened their pace which had 
dropped off from their first energetic spurt. 
On they pressed, through what appeared to be 
the territory they had traveled horseback 
that morning. Yet, when the hands on 
George’s watch pointed to five minutes past 
ten, they still saw no sign of the more familiar 
ground surrounding the camp. 


148 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“See here,” began George after this dis¬ 
maying discovery, “ it was about five o’clock 
when we started this hike, wasn’t it? We’ve 
been five hours on the way. We’ve easily 
made three miles an hour, so we ought to be 
very close to camp. I’ll say I never saw this 
place before. We’re not near camp at all.” 

“I’ve been afraid of that for the last hour,” 
Hal returned soberly. “I didn’t want to give 
in that we’d missed our way, for I thought we 
might come out all right. Now we’re up 
against the truth that we’ve made a wrong 
turn somewhere. There’s no use in going on. 
We’d best camp out under a tree till daylight, 
then we’ll stand some chance of picking up 
the right trail.” 

“That’s so. Wish we had something to fry 
these fish in. We’d have a snack right now.” 
George disgustedly eyed his catch. Lugging 
it for five long hours had greatly decreased its 
value in his eyes. “I’m going to cache these 
slippery fins in the morning. If we make camp 
early we can ride back and get ’em. They’re 
heavy as lead.” 

Hal agreed spiritlessly that it would be a 
good plan and the two boys began to look 
about for a suitable place to spend the night. 

“Let’s go on a little farther. I think I hear 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 149 


water running.” George stood still in a listen¬ 
ing attitude. “Yep, there's a gurgle of it 
somewhere near.” 

Following the sound, the wanderers came 
presently upon a full-flowing spring splashing 
down into a little natural stony basin. Beyond 
the spring was an open space almost like a 
clearing. Through the trees this grassy space 
looked light as day by contrast with the deep 
shadows of the forest around it. 

“Another proof that we're off the track. 
We never saw this spring before. We never 
saw that space before.” Hal pointed toward 
the splotch of high light. “Well, let's fill up 
on water. There's plenty of that. Then I'm 
going to snooze a while. I'm sleepy as can be.” 

They drank long and deeply of the spring's 
cold, refreshing water and felt better after¬ 
ward. Too plucky to worry over their own 
situation, their hearts were sore over the theft 
of their ponies. Choosing the least lumpy 
spot they could find under one of the big trees 
immediate to the spring, the lost pair lay down 
side by side and were soon fast asleep. 

How long Hal slept he could not tell, except 
that it was still moonlight when he opened his 
eyes. His first moment of awakening was con¬ 
fused. He wondered where he was and what 


150 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


had happened to him. Then remembrance 
came and with it a sound that quickened his 
heart beats. Faint as it was, it was welcome. 
He knew it for the unmistakable clop-clop of 
ponies’ feet. It was growing more distinct, 
too. Instantly came the thought that Norton 
had rallied the others to search for himself and 
George. 

Hal got to his feet all in a quiver and pre¬ 
pared to dash forward to meet the rescue 
party. He made two or three quick steps 
toward the moon-flooded clearing, then halted 
as though petrified. His next move was to 
dodge behind a tree with a smothered excla¬ 
mation of horrified amazement. 

Into the lighted clearing had ridden a 
company of horsemen, but such a company! 
Above each horse rose a figure, sinister and 
terrifying. Swathed in cloaks of shadowy 
gray which trailed over the horses’ sides, gray- 
hooded and gray masked, it was as though a 
procession of legendary shades had elected to 
come forth and ride. Not a sound rose from 
the ghostly party as two by two they rode 
across the clearing. Fascination succeeding 
horror, Hal counted them as they passed. He 
had come to “thirty-six” when he lost his 
count in a hurry. The thirty-sixth couple 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 151 


wheeled and rode straight for where he stood 
in partial hiding. 

■ Like a flash Hal dropped to the ground, 
hardly daring to breathe. He felt the horses’ 
hoofs almost fan his face, so near did the riders 
come to him. He could only hope George 
would not wake up nor these night hawks spy 
his chum asleep. The tree under which they 
had chosen to sleep was well in the shadow. 

The moment the two had passed him, Hal 
raised his head. Now he saw the reason for 
their unexpected move. They were going to 
the spring. He watched them draw up beside 
it, then he sprang to his feet and ran for where 
George had lain sleeping. He was still there, 
sleeping calmly on. Hal calculated rapidly 
that if the sinister pair went away as quickly 
as they had come it would be best not to rouse 
his chum. George was likely to speak aloud 
or make some noise during the waking process 
that would bring the two to the scene. Hal 
had no wish to fight them unarmed and with 
their pack so near. 

All the stories Hal had ever heard concern¬ 
ing night riders began to parade through his 
mind. Not least was the latest one told by 
the lumbermen at the Williams camp. Yes, 
these were the very men the lumbermen had 


152 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


told David of. The first thrill of horror at 
sight of the mysterious, masked figures had 
passed. Hal’s usual state of headlong valor 
began to re-assert itself. Given his pony, he 
would have been tempted to follow these 
spectral-looking night riders to see what they 
had in view. 

The two masks did not remain long at the 
spring. They ran their horses back to the 
clearing and disappeared at a swift canter. 
Hal waited for what he judged to be fifteen 
minutes before he awakened George. 

“Haw!” was George’s first remark in a tone 
loud enough for all of the night riders to have 
heard had they been drawn up in the clearing. 
“What’s the matter? What—why, it isn’t 
morning yet.” 

“Yes, haw! Just like that! It’s a good 
thing I let you sleep,” Hal said grimly. 
“You’d have been a dead give-away.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 
George raised himself on his elbow. “Some¬ 
thing’s in the wind or you wouldn’t have cut 
me out of forty more winks.” 

“You bet something’s in the wind. I’ve 
just seen the night riders; the ones the lumber¬ 
jacks told Dave about.” 

“Wh-at! WlierewasI?” George groaned. 
“Why did you let me sleep?” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 153 


“ Didn’t dare rouse you. See what you did 
when I tried it. They were as close to us as 
the clearing, they rode across it, and two of ’em 
were closer. They walked their horses to the 
spring and almost walked on me.” 

“What!” George could only gasp again. 
“Uh-h-h. Missed the chance of my life to see 
a sight. How many were there?” 

“I counted thirty-six and that wasn’t all. 
I lost count when the two hit it up for the 
spring. There were fifty, anyway. Gee 
whilliken, you should have seen ’em! A fine 
looking bunch of bogies, I’ll say.” Hal went 
on with a more minute description of the 
masked riders. 

“Maybe they’ll come back this way,” 
George said hopefully after listening to Hal’s 
description. 

“I hadn’t thought about that. If they do 
it will be before daylight. We’d better move; 
find a place from where we can see the clearing, 
in case they should come back, but where they 
won’t find us. Some of them might come 
down to the spring on the return. They’re a 
band of no-goods or they wouldn’t be riding 
around togged out like that. I’m no coward, 
but a fat chance we’d have if we ran into them, 
fifty strong.” 


154 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“No more snoozing for us, then. We’ll 
have to be on the watch.” George rose hur¬ 
riedly from the ground. “Let’s pick a new 
spot. Where’ll it be? ” 

He and Hal now began a hunt in the vicinity 
of the clearing. They found nothing that 
suited them until Hal boldly led the way 
across the clearing and forged ahead into the 
undergrowth that bordered its upper side. 
There he found the ground so much higher he 
had a full view of the light, open space when 
he lay flat among the weeds and bushes. 
These were so thick as to screen him effect¬ 
ually from roving eyes. 

“Here’s our place. It couldn’t be better. 
I’ll skin back and get the fish. You stay here. 
If they do come back, it won’t be right aw^ay. 
What time is it?” 

George took out his watch and announced 
the time as half-past one. Hal left him 
briefly, returning with the two strings of fish. 
These he cached far enough away so that 
neither he nor George would be likely to 
stumble over them. Then the two boys took 
up their watch. Hal was exceedingly wide 
awake, but George was not. He yawned 
continually and had to fight off sleep until the 
desire left him. Then he became as alert as 
Hal. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 155 


At first the boys sat on the edge of the 
clearing ready to draw back into the bushes 
at a minute’s warning. As the hours dragged 
slowly toward daylight they grew more cau¬ 
tious. At four o’clock nothing had happened. 

“ Guess they went some other way,” Hal 
said under his breath. “The moonlight’s 
turning into dawn. The moon’s going to 
hang around and have a look at the sun. If 
those awful ginks don’t parade along here by 
four-thirty I’m going to head for the spring 
and fill up again on water. Oh, gee, but I am 
getting hungry!” 

It lacked two minutes of four-thirty when 
Hal rose from the bushes to put into action 
his spoken resolve. He was about to descend 
the slight grade to the clearing when he 
suddenly drew back and dropped as though 
shot. Again he heard that faint, familiar 
clip-clop. 

“Down, George, down!” he whispered. 
“They’re coming, and in broad daylight! 
They have nerve. Oh, boy!” 

Breathlessly the two boys flattened them¬ 
selves to the ground, their keen bright eyes 
peering through the leaves in fascinated 
expectation. Again they came, that grayish, 
uncanny procession. This time they crossed 


156 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


the clearing, riding in close formation and 
hard, as though in a hurry to get over it. 
George felt an odd chill creep up and down 
his spine at first sight of them. Next instant 
he was ready to class them as utterly and 
wickedly human. 

Hal was endeavoring to count them and 
found it hard to do because of their massed 
formation. Then a new addition to the band 
appeared which caused both himself and 
George fairly to writhe with rage. A troop of 
at least twenty fine ponies came into view, 
urged along by half a dozen gray-cloaked 
forms. Foremost among the captive ponies 
ran Puff and Starlight. 


CHAPTER XIII 


The Bungalow in the Woods 




sr r 


LL have those blamed night hawks 
hunted down if I have to go clear to 
^ Nevada and get White Shadow and 
his men after ’em!” Hal was fairly prancing 
with wrath. He shook his fist vengefully in 
the direction of the vanished riders. “Thank 
goodness, we know who’s got Puff and Star¬ 
light ! Oh, won’t I make those big bluffs sweat 
for this night’s work!” 

“Show’s they’re horse thieves. Wonder 
where they cribbed that lot of ponies. They 
were good stock.” George still looked rather 
dazed at the sudden appearance and disap¬ 
pearance of Puff and Starlight. “It was 
fierce to see them leading our ponies along and 
we not able to get them.” 

“We’ve got to get them, but we can’t tackle 
the job alone. I know this much, we can 
proved these night riders are no fairy tale. 
We’ve seen them. If we knew ourselves where 
we got off at we’d be able to say which direc¬ 
tion they came from. It’s a cinch they’ve 

( 157 ) 


158 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


a nest somewhere over that way.” Hal indi¬ 
cated the direction in which the mounted band 
had disappeared. “They came from there, 
stole the ponies and beat it back over the same 
road.” 

“According to the way they w T ent they were 
headed east. There’s the dawn coming up, 
and that’s the true sign of the east.” George 
nodded toward the faint pink flushing the 
morning sky. 

“Yes, but how long do you suppose they’ll 
keep on going east? They are likely to turn 
and go in another direction. No use tr 3 r ing 
to tell anything about that gang of rustlers 
unless we followed them. What we must do 
now is to try to figure our position and that of 
the camp by the sun. I guess we’ll hit the 
right trail by daylight. Blamed if I’ll own to 
being lost till I have to.” Hal still stood 
gazing moodily in the direction the gray riders 
had gone. He was again seeing Puff and Star¬ 
light being led away by the masked rustlers. 

Another trip to the spring and the two boys 
took the trail again after figuring their position 
as well as they could. Hal was of the opinion 
that when they had started from the lake they 
had gone directly away from camp instead of 
toward it. If this w'ere so, they would be 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 159 


thirty miles from their friends instead of 
fifteen. 

Being particularly hardy, neither was feeling 
even tired in spite of the fact that they had 
hardly slept during the night. It was hunger 
that was bothering them. The cold rare air 
made them ravenous. Nevertheless they 
started off with commendable vigor, both 
determined to forget about “eats” as long as 
they could. 

All morning they hiked steadily along in 
what they hoped would turn out to be the 
right direction. They kept their eyes and 
ears on the alert to spy or hear a search party 
ranging the wilderness for them. They knew 
from Kent’s experience in being lost that 
Norton would lose no time in riding out to the 
lake. From there he would institute a search 
in all directions. Unfortunately the boys had 
not blazed their trail from the lake. The loss 
of their ponies had completely driven this 
precaution from their minds. Besides, they 
had been so sure that they knew the trail back 
to camp. 

“We certainly have made a mess of things 
this trip,” Hal said gloomily when at eleven 
o’clock they stopped for the first time since 
the start to drink of and lave hands and faces 


160 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


in another mountain spring. “We should 
have had sense enough to blaze our trail from 
the lake, since we were on foot.” 

“Well, we didn’t think we WTre going to 
flivver. We’ve acted like a couple of grass- 
green boobs instead of woodsmen.” George 
could not help laughing despite their troubles. 

“Grass-green boobs is good. That’s us.” 
Hal’s solemn face broke into a smile, the first 
since the loss of Starlight. Immediately he 
felt better and his drooping spirits began to 
rise. 

“Say, Hal,” George stood looking around 
him after turning away from the spring, “did 
you ever before see such whales of trees? 
These are worth a lot of money as a lumber 
proposition, I’ll bet.” 

“Probably.” Hal was not interested in the 
forest giants. He barely glanced up at them. 
“Come along,” he said, “let’s at it again. 
Every time I stop and stand still I begin to 
cave for fear we are dead wrong about this 
spurt for camp we are making. Some day 
we’ll land somewhere, but I’m wondering 
when it’ll be.” 

“Gee, but you can hand out the comfort 
salve.” George spoke jestingly. Like Hal 
he was fighting off until the last minute the 
taking of their position seriously. 




AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 161 


It was after one o'clock when they stopped 
again. This time it was on account of a dis¬ 
covery that brought a ray of good cheer. 
They had come upon a regular bit of tote road 
in the woods which looked as though it was in 
constant use. 

“Are we—do you believe—?” Hal 
stepped into the middle of the narrow road, 
scanning it up and down. “It looks a lot 
lighter up that way, George. I believe there's 
a clearing beyond those trees; maybe a shack. 
Oh, boy! Hope it's no fake." 

“Let's go and see." George was ready to 
steer for the lighter space among the trees at 
a word. 

Together the wanderers set off up the road 
at a speedy trot. They followed it for at least 
a quarter of a mile. They noticed that here 
and there a forest giant had been cut down. 
This accounted for the greater amount of light 
they had observed in the area ahead of them. 
The farther they went, however, the lighter 
it grew. Of a sudden Hal threw up both arms 
and raised a triumphant shout. He doubled 
his speed, running like a hunted rabbit for 
what his eyes informed him was indeed a 
clearing. More, in the center of that clearing, 
which was at least a hundred yards in length 


11 




162 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


and breadth, stood a neat modem bungalow, 
the lower part stone, the upper of wood, 
painted a pale shade of brown. 

“Now who in Sam Hill lives there, do you 
suppose? ” he said to George as the two paused 
and wonderingly eyed the pretty house, so at 
variance with its wild surroundings. 

“Maybe another hermit like Norton. You 
know how nice his shack looks. Only his place 
is a shack. This is a sure enough bungalow,” 
George replied. 

“Come on. Let’s brace it. We’ve got to 
eat and we’ve got to find out where we are. 
Of course, I haven’t a cent of money in these 
clothes. That means do the tramp act. 
Please, kind gentleman, I wasn’t always 
hungry— How does that sound? Good 
dope? |Huh?” Hal had taken George by 
the arm and was hustling him towards the 
front steps of the bungalow. 

“I’m surprised to find no door bell,” Hal 
said humorously as he rapped lightly on the 
upper panel. 

Both boys waited silently for some sign of a 
host within. A minute or two went by with¬ 
out a response to Hal’s knock. He rapped 
again, and harder. Neither lad saw the shade 
of a window at the left of the door move ever 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 163 


so little, then drop into place again. They did 
hear footfalls, inside, light but distinct. 
Another very brief wait and the door opened. 

Their host—! They stood staring into the 
face of a very pretty young woman who 
measured them with one straight glance from 
her wide-open blue eyes, then smiled in 
friendly fashion. 

“ How do you do? " Two hats had come off 
two heads in a hurry at sight of the door open¬ 
er. Hal now rose to the job of spokesman. 
George looked as though he thought of bolting. 
“We have lost our way to our camp. We've 
been off the trail since yesterday afternoon. 
We hope you can help us. I am Harold 
Brent, and this is my chum, George Davis. 
A party of us are pony riding through this 
section of the state. We are in camp just 
now at a cabin about sixty miles south of the 
Williams lumber camp. That's as near as I 
can come to telling you our location." 

“ If you know where a lake is with a tall rock 
in the middle of it, that lake is only fifteen 
miles west of our camp. That's nearer than 
sixty." George had overcome his shyness to 
give this information. 

u Yes, I know that lake. We are over forty 
miles from it, but I think your camp is between 



164 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


it and us. I am not sure, but my brother will 
know. He will soon be here. I am Brenda 
Laird, and my brother is Roger Laird. We 
came here from Scotland five years ago. Now 
you must come in and have something to eat. 
You must be famished, unless, perhaps you 
had food enough with you.” 

“We are hungry,” Hal said politely, trying 
not to look at George for fear of bursting into 
a laugh. “We carried nothing but a.'cold 
snack and finished it yesterday noon.” 

“Yesterday noon! You poor boys! You 
certainly do need to eat.” As she talked she 
ushered her hungry guests into a dining room 
as attractive as the Brents’ own living room 
at Sweet Briar Ranch. A Persian rug in 
wonderful blues covered the most of the 
polished floor, a rosewood piano, a davenport, 
a high mahogany desk from overseas, wicker 
and willow chairs and an oval glass-topped 
center table furnished the room, but with 
plenty of space left to move about in. Several 
portraits in oil and a few other small but fine 
paintings ornamented the walls. In front of 
one of the windows was a willow work basket 
on legs. Before another window^ stood a type¬ 
writer, open and containing a half-typed sheet 
of paper. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 165 


“ Please be at home,” the young woman said 
quaintly. “ Roger and I seldom have visitors. 
Excuse me. I must look after your comfort.” 
She left the room with a last friendly smile 
and nod. 

After she had gone the boys could not refrain 
from discussing in low tones this latest and 
most amazing adventure. To find all the 
comforts of civilization in the heart of an 
Oregon forest was remarkable enough, but 
to find a young woman there who seemed 
perfectly content in such a lonely vastness 
of territory was astonishing indeed. 

“Do you think we ought to mention those 
gray riders to Miss Laird?” Hal presently 
said, overtaken by a disquieting thought. 
“They were such a fearsome, spooky-looking 
crowd, it might make her nervous, especially 
if she has to be alone much up here.” 

“That’s so. We’d best say our ponies were 
stolen and let it go at that. If we meet her 
brother before we go we can tell him about the 
riders. He may know of them and she, too, 
for that matter. No use springing it on her, 
though.” 

When Miss Laird again entered it was to 
usher them into a large sunny dining room 
with windows full of blooming plants and a 


166 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


canary singing his little heart out from his 
large gilded cage. 

Neither George nor Hal ever forgot that 
dinner of lamb stew with plentiful vegetable 
accompaniments, home-made rolls, fresh 
blackberry pie and hot coffee. They ate until 
they were ashamed to eat more. 

“You came just in time to eat,” she told 
them. “I had dinner all cooked for Roger 
and he never came near to get it. There! I 
believe I hear him coming now. He had to 
go away in a hurry this morning—” She 
paused. A worried look sprang to her face 
which she quickly concealed. Again she 
excused herself and left the room by a door 
which led into the kitchen. The boys heard 
the sound of a horse’s galloping feet passing 
the side of the house on which the dining room 
was situated. A moment and they heard a 
man’s voice saying in agitated tones: “No 
one up there has seen a sign of them. They 
made a slick get away. You’d better not—” 

The soft interrupting tones of Miss Laird’s 
voice cut short the rest of the excited speech. 
When the young man spoke again it was in a 
much lower tone; so low that they heard only 
the sound of his voice. 

When their pretty hostess returned she 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 167 


brought her brother with her. He was a tall, 
squarely built young man with blue eyes like 
his sister's and a resolute mouth and chin. 
He greeted the boys with friendly simplicity 
and immediately began asking them about 
their getting lost. 

“And your ponies were stolen while you 
were fishing? " Roger Laird shot a peculiar 
glance at his guests. It was as though he 
were half inclined to doubt their story. 

“'Yes, and wait until I get hold of the 
rustlers that ran 'em off!" Hal's face grew 
dark with the memory of his stolen pet, Star¬ 
light. 

“Have you any idea who could have taken 
them? Had you and your friends been dogged 
by rough fellows or annoyed in any way?" 
The questions were tersely asked. 

“Yes, we know who stole them." Hal 
tardily remembered his resolve not to mention 
the night riders before Miss Laird. * ‘ Er—that 
is, we—" he floundered about for a state¬ 
ment that would not be revealing and yet be 
truth. “Two men tried to run our ponies off 
when we were at the Williams camp," he ended 
rather lamely. 

“So you think these rustlers the same ones 
who tried it before?" Laird pursued, never 



168 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


taking his eyes off the embarrassed Hal. 
“Well, you boys are not the only ones with a 
grudge against these rustlers. Last night I 
had twenty-two fine ponies run off by a crowd 
worse than mere rustlers. My ponies were 
stolen by the Gray Cloaks. Ever hear of 
them?” 

Hal and George were dumb with surprise 
for the moment. Both sent a furtive glance 
toward Miss Laird, who had taken a chair 
near a window. They saw no traces of trepi¬ 
dation in her face. Instead her blue eyes were 
flashing. She showed signs of deep though 
quiet anger. 

“We heard about a band of night riders at 
the Williams camp, but last night—or rather 
this morning—we saw them.” Hal was glad 
of the opportunity to speak frankly. 

“You saw them!” brother and sister cried 
out together. 

“Yes; what’s more, we saw your ponies and 
ours. They’ve got them.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


Standing By 


c< 


A” 


ND you don’t expect to get back 
your horses?” Hal asked in an 
unbelieving tone. He had narrated 
to the Lairds his and George’s adventure with 
the Gray Cloaks. Roger Laird had listened 
to the account in frowning silence, then he had 
made the statement regarding the futility of 
expecting to see his ponies again. 

“You don’t understand,” Laird began. 
“ I’ll have to explain to you that I’m a marked 
man up here. Some one, I’ve never yet been 
able to find out who it is, wants my sister’s and 
my property. We own several thousand acres 
of the best timber land in the West. It was 
left to us by my mother’s brother, Robin 
Mackenzie. We came over here five years 
ago to look after our affairs and soon found 
we weren’t wanted. 

“After we’d been here a year we had an offer 
for our land. It came through a bank. We 
were told it was made by a corporation. It 
was a very small offer. We did not care to 

( 169 ) 


170 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


sell out, anyway. We knew our interests lay 
in holding on to our inheritance/’ he contin¬ 
ued. “I was willing to sell some of the timber, 
for I needed money for my taxes and the up¬ 
keep while I was learning the lumber business. 
I had made up my mind I would not rest until 
I had learned it from beginning to end, so that 
I could handle my property intelligently. 
The timber I sold brought high prices. 

“The second year I had two offers to sell, 
each a little better than the first. About the 
end of the third year I found here and there a 
tree missing that had not been cut down by 
my order. From that on I have been sub¬ 
jected to all sorts of annoyances, some of them 
fairly serious. Two years ago I built this 
house. I wanted to be in the fighting center 
of things. I wished my sister to live in a city. 
I thought it dangerous for her to be here alone 
so much of the time. My business takes me 
all over the estate. She preferred to stay here 
and stand by me. 

“The first time I met the Gray Cloaks was 
one night when I was going to a friend’s home, 
horseback. I had a large sum of money with 
me which I intended to bank in the town 
where he lived. They lay in wait for me about 
ten miles from here on a narrow trail that I 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 171 


often used as a short cut. My horse saved 
me, first by being a kicker; then they chased 
me, horseback, and he outran their cayuses.” 

“Are you that man!” Hal cried out in 
surprise. “We heard about that hold-up at 
the lumber camp.” 

“Yes, sir. I am that man,” was the grim 
return. “ I’ve had notices tacked on my door, 
two fine dogs shot, two other attempts made 
to waylay me, and now my ponies have been 
run off. It’s time such lawlessness was 
brought up with a jerk. The first report of 
it I made to the lumber police only six months 
ago. Before that I thought it best to say 
nothing and fight things out by myself. It 
was the shooting of my dogs that made me 
so sore. One was a Great Dane, a fine speci¬ 
men; the other, a shepherd dog, a true and 
faithful friend. After I reported the outrages 
to the police the notice was tacked on my 
front door. I kept it. I'll show it to you.” 

He rose and left the room, returning after a 
few minutes with the menacing notice. It was 
a square of rough gray paper and bore the 
sinister warning, printed in charcoal: 

“He who offends the Gray Cloaks courts Death.” 

Hal read it aloud, then looked up from the 


172 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


paper with a laugh. “ I think those fellows are 
a set of bluffs,” he said. “Why don’t the 
lumber police up here get busy? They could 
organize a posse and keep circulating around 
in the woods until they ran across these Gray 
Ginks some night on their travels.” 

“The fellows are very sly about going out 
on their raids. They have been seen, here and 
there, now and again, much as you and your 
friend saw them, but always by one man; or 
not more than two or three. None of the 
men who have seen them have ever been able 
to locate their lair. They have one, undoubt¬ 
edly, in this region, but it is a secret place; 
probably strongly guarded. Two or three 
special officers who have ranged this territory, 
their object a secret, have been found, shot 
dead. I lay those murders to the Gray Cloaks. 
The trouble is, up here you can’t get the 
natives to talk of these Gray Cloaks. They’ll 
say they’ve heard of them, or, they wonder if 
there really is such a band, and that’s all you 
can get out of them,” Roger Laird ended 
disgustedly. 

“They’re afraid of being led out some dark 
night and beaten up, I guess,” George said 
wisely. 

“Yes, that’s it. If only the whole section 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 173 


would get up and raise a fuss about this blot 
on the state, these rustlers and assassins could 
be made short work of. I know one thing, 
Fm going to write the government about it 
to-night. I’ll fight these wolves to the death.” 
Laird brought his clenched fist down on the 
table with a bang that set the dishes rattling. 

“If there’s anything we can do to help you 
while we are up here, count on us. We are 
seven in camp and all scrappers. On a good 
speedy horse you can ride from here to our 
camp in no time. Your sister says she thinks 
our camp is half way between here and Pyra¬ 
mid Pond. That’s what I named the pond 
with the big rock in the middle of it.” 

“Good name. I’ll keep it. That pond 
happens to belong to me. Yes, you are just 
about twenty miles from your camp. You 
can use a couple of my cayuses to make the 
ride there.” 

“Thank you /” Hal emphasized. “We’ll 
be mighty glad to accept that offer. I’ve 
hiked enough to last me for a few days. If 
we start before long we can easily make camp 
before dark.” 

“I’m going to ride over with you, if you 
don’t mind,” Laird said. “Brenda, you had 
better get ready and go, too. The ride will be 


174 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


a change for you.” He turned to his sister, 
then to Hal again: “Want to see some good 
horses, you and your chum?” 

“You bet! And call me Hal and him 
George. They’re easy handles to get away 
with.” 

“That will suit me, and, remember, I’m 
your friend, Roger.” The young Scotchman 
appeared to have the utmost confidence in the 
two boys. This they could not help noticing. 
They were pleased over his ready acceptance 
of them as friends. 

“We’ll remember,” both Long Trailers said 
concertedly. 

Miss Laird, having excused herself to her 
guests, went to her room to put on her riding 
clothes. The chums went with young Laird 
to see the ponies. The Scotchman led the way 
to the kitchen, through it and out the back 
door. From there they swung across a wide 
piece of closely-clipped lawn and into a high- 
grassed meadow through which ran a little 
brook about eight feet wide. Laird cleared it 
at a jump and so did George. Hal missed the 
opposite side by a foot only, landing in the 
ripples. 

“I can’t keep out of the wet,” he laughed. 
“I have to jump into every frog pond I come 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 175 


to.” He went on to give a ludicrous account 
of his ducking in Pyramid Pond, at which 
Laird laughed heartily. 

The latter was leading them along the bank 
of the little stream, his large blue eyes seeming 
to take in everything around him, and all at 
once. They followed the brook for at least a 
quarter of a mile. Where the meadow ended, 
the brook did not. The character of the soil 
had changed from fertile meadow land to more 
rocky ground. The chattering stream cut 
through this bit of stony, stump-strewn land, 
curved to the right and rippled noisily on 
down a little canyon which grew broader as 
they followed the brook’s course through it. 
It lay between two stony but not very high 
walls out of which sprang a few saplings and 
gnarled misshapen cedar trees. 

Hal thought they must be close to a mile 
from the bungalow and wondered why Laird 
kept his horses at such a distance from the 
house. He was not surprised that the young 
lumber king’s ponies had been stolen. 

He was about to ask how far they had come 
when their host stopped wdiere the brook made 
another turn to the left in the canyon. At the 
point where it now curved was a peculiar 
rocky formation. It looked like a series of 


176 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


rocks, one upon another, which had grown 
together to make one huge natural monument. 

Laird paused squarely before the middle of 
this rock pile. Over it sprayed long tendrils 
of a bright green mountain ivy. Bending a 
trifle, he ran a hand up and down one of the 
center stones, after pushing the ivy very care¬ 
fully to one side. George and Hal grew round¬ 
eyed with amazement when a part of the 
supposedly solid rocks swung out like a door 
revealing a passage large enough for a man to 
walk through standing. Peering through the 
opening they caught the gleam of the sun far 
up what seemed to be a long twilight space. 

“Why—what—?” both exclaimed in a 
breath. 

“Camouflage.” Laird turned from the 
bogus rocks to them, showing his strong white 
teeth in a broad smile. “Isn’t it perfect?” 

“It’s a wonder!” Hal said admiringly. 
“How do you work it? Oh, never mind. I 
shouldn’t have asked that. I was too curious.” 

“I said you were my friends , didn’t I?” 
Laird reminded with a smile. “See, this is 
the way it works. This rock and this one and 
those two aren’t real. They’re painted in on 
heavy canvas, reinforced from behind by 
boards. This was just a large natural opening 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 177 


through to a little side canyon where the walls 
almost meet overhead. In fact, they do meet 
in some places. While it’s not very light for a 
way up there, the grass is thick and good. I 
had always thought it might be a good place 
to hide horses. Never supposed I’d have to 
come to it, though. After that bogie notice 
came I moved my ponies down there with two 
of my best men on day duty and four at night.” 

“And were those ponies we saw stolen from 
this secret pass?” George asked wonderingly. 
“I should think no rustlers could ever find the 
way in there.” 

“They were not,” Laird crisply answered. 
“I have the men bring up a few of the ponies 
at a time so they can get the broad daylight 
and enjoy themselves in their own way. It’s 
hard on them—the semi-darkness. The 
twenty-two they rustled were up in one of the 
pastures about a quarter of a mile east of the 
bungalow. Two of my riders were with them, 
I came home about four o’clock in the after¬ 
noon and went over to that pasture to see one 
of the men. I found him lying in the grass, 
knocked out by a bad scalp wound. He 
told me later, after I had doctored him up, 
that he did not know who hit him. He was 
sitting on the ground watching the horses and 


12 


178 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


all of a sudden got a terrible smash on the head 
and went to sleep. Of course the horses were 
gone, and Carver, the other rider of mine, too. 
That worries me most. I supposed him trust¬ 
worthy. He has worked for me ever since I 
came out here. These Gray Cloaks may have 
killed him and taken his body along with them. 
They may have taken him prisoner.” Laird 
paused, looking acutely worried. 

“We saw them with the ponies, but that 
was early the next morning after they’d stolen 
your cayuses. Hard to say where they’d been 
between afternoon and that time. Yet, I 
believe when we saw them they were just 
taking the horses to their den. There w r as no 
one with the gang but those who wore gray 
cloaks and masks. No one was riding the 
ponies. Oh-h-h-h!” Hal clenched his fist 
in a return of hot anger. “It makes me sore 
to lose our two ponies. You must feel broken 
up at losing such a bunch.” 

“I haven’t lost them.” Laird’s firm chin 
seemed to set more firmly. “I shall have my 
cayuses back, and I tell you I will never rest 
until I’ve done my bit, and more, at helping 
put those long riders behind the bars; better, 
with a rope around their necks.” 

“I said I’d get Starlight, my pony, back 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 179 


before I left here. I’m going to do it, even if 
I have to go live with the Awful and Obstrep¬ 
erous Order of the Good-for-Nothing Gray 
Ginks,” was Hal’s cheerful but purposeful 
declaration. 

“Well, come on, boys, and pick your 
horses.” Laird led the way through the 
camouflaged door. He stopped to put it 
carefully in place, then the three walked on 
through the dim, shadowy canyon. 

They had not walked far when a tall man 
rose from a rock like an apparition. He 
peered forward in the gloom at the approach¬ 
ing trio, hands to his belt. 

“Right-o, Jimpson,” called Laird. 

The man immediately resumed his seat on 
the rock. “Hear anything much?” he asked 
as his employer came opposite him. 

“No, not a great deal. These young men 
saw the G. C.’s with our cayuses. They lost 
their ponies, too, to those whelps.” 

“You don’t say!” The exclamation carried 
sympathy. Laird introduced Jimpson to the 
boys as his oldest and most valued employe 
on the home ranch. Jimpson was also rated 
as the quickest man in Oregon on a draw. 
Laird smilingly mentioned this and Hal in¬ 
stantly invited Jimpson to come over to camp 


180 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


and teach the Long Trailers his art of pulling 
a gun. Jimpson, long, lean and typically 
western, accepted the invitation with true 
cowboy warmth and the two immediately 
became good pals. 

Accompanied by Jimpson they went to look 
at the ponies. There were between twenty 
and thirty of them, all in the pink of condition. 
Laird insisted that the boys should choose 
their own mounts. This they did, but rather 
heavy-heartedly. They were still thinking 
about their own vanished pets. 

“You must keep these ponies until you get 
your own back,” Laird said generously. 
“Then you won’t be stuck for a mount. 
Ponies are hard to get up here, unless you 
happen to know a private individual like 
myself who has a number of them. If you 
don’t recover yours, keep these for good.” 

“You are too kind to us. We couldn’t do 
that,” Hal replied, his face lighting with appre¬ 
ciation of the other’s kindness. “If ours are 
gone for good—” Hal paused. He could 
not bear to think so. “We’ll only keep these 
until we are ready to break up camp,” he 
went on. “I hope you and your sister will 
visit my folks and myself some time at Sweet 
Water Ranch in Nevada. It’s a bully place 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 181 


to spend a vacation; that is, for anyone but 
me. I always want to be somewhere else.” 

“ Perhaps we will visit you some time. I 
need a vacation, and my sister a change of 
scene. We’ve had a hard and lonely time up 
here in the wilderness. Our property is so 
large; we have felt that we ought to be here 
until we had the run of it thoroughly. It’s 
too much of a drag on us both, though. Later, 
I wish to sell a part of it, but not unless I get 
my price. I don’t intend to be bullied into 
selling it, nor I won’t brook interference.” 
The Scotchman’s hands clenched involuntarily 
as he said this. 

Leading the ponies the boys were to ride, 
the three returned through the cleverly cam¬ 
ouflaged door and rode briskly back to the 
bungalow. While George and Hal were 
content to be in the Lairds’ pleasant com¬ 
pany, they knew they must no longer delay 
their start back to camp. 

Laird’s own horse, a mettlesome bay, was 
in the yard behind the house. As the boys 
approached the bungalow Miss Laird walked 
toward them, leading a beautiful black pony 
which she kept in a small stable directly below 
the house. When she turned him out to graze 
it was with her watchful eyes upon him. 


182 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“I never used to have to keep Ginger up 
here/ 7 she told the boys. “It is necessary 
now.” She put him through a number of 
pretty little maneuvers for the boys’ benefit 
and afterward stuffed him with apples from 
the pockets of her riding coat. 

It was after five o’clock before the party 
were fairly on the trail to camp. By quick, 
steady riding Roger Laird thought they would 
be able to make camp before dark. 

“You folks ought not to come back here in 
the dark after what’s happened. I mean, ride 
back here only two strong,” was George’s 
anxious remark. 

“Oh, we’re used to things happening,” Miss 
Laird carelessly replied. “If we stopped to 
think about being cautious we’d be miserable 
up here. When I’m at the bungalow I keep 
the doors locked and a loaded revolver handy. 
Wlien I ride, it’s always with Roger; so I’m 
pretty safe.” 

“I’ll never say again that girls haven’t as 
much courage as fellows,” Hal gallantly 
declared. 

“My sister is the gamest girl in Oregon,” 
Roger said with fond pride. “She has fought 
for our rights as hard as I.” 

The boys could well believe this statement 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 183 


and said so. They had felt rather awkward at 
first in the young woman’s presence. They 
had already come to regard her as what Hal 
had privately termed “a real girl scout.” 

After they struck the tote road they made 
much better time than when following the 
narrow winding forest trail. They had ridden 
over a mile of the wider road when they saw, 
through the leafy screen, a group of horsemen 
rapidly approaching them from an opposite 
direction. There were five of them and they 
reined in among the trees to let the boys and 
the Lairds pass. All were more or less roughly 
dressed, but riding fine horses. j 

“How are you?” Roger Laird said lacon¬ 
ically, as a matter of highway courtesy. >] 

A kind of united mutter that might have 
been “ How de do ” went up from the quintette. 
Other than that they sat on their horses in 
sinister silence. 

“A surly bunch,” Hal remarked after they 
had put some distance between themselves 
and the other men. 

“They look like rustlers. They may be 
Gray Cloaks. I know they and their horses 
don’t match. Yet they’re good riders,” Roger 
Laird said. “That is the trouble with a band 
of masks like these Cloaks. You may be 


184 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


meeting some of them every day as acquaint¬ 
ances; even friends. Do you begin to know 
where you’re at now, boys? ” He changed the 
subject. “I believe we are not more than a 
couple of miles from your camp.” 

“ Yes, we are on home ground and we know 
it,” Hal said joyfully. They had left the tote 
road and struck off into the woods. “ We’re 
going to gallop into camp ahead of the dark, 
too.” 

“Hark!” George put one of his hands to 
an ear. “I heard a horse neigh. I’ll bet the 
bunch are out looking for us. Let’s whistle.” 
He had sent out one shrill whistle when a rider 
appeared in sight among the trees. He was 
advancing at a reckless rate of speed. He 
shot by the boys so quickly they hardly saw 
his face in the fast-dimming light. 

“What’s your hurry?” George mischiev¬ 
ously called after him. No reply was wafted 
back. “Another disappointment for us. 
Thought that was one of our fellows; didn’t 
you, Brent?” 

Hal did not answer. He had done better 
than that. He had seen the horseman’s face. 
More, for an instant the rider’s eyes had met 
his, in them tacit recognition. Yet he had 
passed with no other sign than that. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 185 


“ Blamed if I like the way that mysterious 
motorist acts,” Hal was thinking. “It 
wouldn’t have killed him to speak to me. I 
didn’t give him away, but I should have. The 
next time I meet him, I’ll have it out with 
him, no matter where we happen to meet. 
Either he’ll tell me who he is, or I’ll cut his 
mysterious acquaintance.” 


CHAPTER XV 


The Attack 

W HEN the excitement over the brief 
disappearance of George and Hal 
and their safe return to camp had 
subsided, a week of comparative quiet ensued. 
The five Long Trailers who had earnestly 
searched for their missing comrades all of the 
night of their absence and most of the next 
day were glad of a chance to relax and take 
life in the woods easy. Though Hal and 
George had stoutly declared that they weren’t 
a particle done up, they took to this brief 
season of indolent relaxation like a couple of 
ducks to water. 

During that week they went out for daily 
short rides on their ponies and on one day the 
whole outfit rode over to pay the kindly 
Lairds a call. Unfortunately neither brother 
nor sister was at home. The outfit hung 
around in the grassy back yard of the bunga¬ 
low for a while, hoping that their new friends 
might return before sunset. As they did not, 
the party finally took the trail for the cabin, 

( 186 ) 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 187 


decidedly disappointed. Hal begged a leaf 
from Craig’s pocket note book and scribbled 
a few lines to the Lairds in pencil. This he 
rolled up and tied to the door knob with a bit 
of string, humorously declaring that it cer¬ 
tainly wouldn’t be taken for a notice from the 
Gay Gray Ginks. 

It was now four days since their call. The 
Long Trail Boys had begun to wonder if any 
harm had befallen the Lairds. 

“Say, Norton,” Hal remarked at breakfast 
on Thursday morning, “we ought to ride over 
to Laird’s again. We promised ’em we’d stand 
by ’em if they needed our help. I, in partic¬ 
ular, blew off a lot of steam about how useful 
I could make myself in a scrap. They’ll think 
I am a big bluffer.” * 

“What’s the programme for to-day?” the 
guide asked reflectively, glancing around the 
table. “If there’s nothing special on the 
carpet we might all ride over this morning. 
I’m beginning to feel stale with the rest. 
Think we might get up a deer hunt to-morrow 
in the section just southwest of here. I 
wouldn’t mind a little venison steak for a 
change of meat.” 

“Um-m-m!” Hal voiced ready approval. 
“I’d welcome it with my mouth wide open. 


188 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Huzza! Things are picking up again. To¬ 
day we are going somewhere special and to¬ 
morrow, too. I'm getting sick myself of the 
restful life." 

“Well, we cleaned our guns while we were 
loafing and that's an item," Kent said. “No 
stopping to fuss with them in the morning." 

“And Hal straightened up his traps," slyly 
added Antonio. “That is also another great 
item. No more will I fall over his fishing 
tackle when I try to walk on that side of the 
room." He nodded toward the side where 
Hal's tackle had lately lain in sprawling 
confusion. 

“Oh, cut it out, Mejicano. I thought you 
knew too much to get the joshing habit—but 
it's growing on you. You'll have reason to 
feel sad some day when you're practicing it 
on me." 

“We shall see how I will feel when that day 
comes," calmly retorted Antonio. “You may 
feel more sad than I." 

“ Let me be manager for both of you at that 
scrap. I'll see you both get a square deal," 
Kent generously offered. 

“You manage Hal and I'll undertake 
Mejicano," but in George. “Tickets of 
admission to the scrap, ten bucks. We stand 
to make some money." 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 189 


Thus the four chums jested as they finished 
breakfast. When they rose from the table it 
was to go directly for the ponies so that no 
time would be lost in starting. This was one 
of Norton’s strongest injunctions to the young 
woodsmen. “Make up your minds well but 
quickly, and then go ahead without loitering. 
I’ve known hundreds of fellows out for a good 
time in the wilderness who lost most of their 
days trying to decide what to do and then 
fooling around before starting out to do it.” 

By eight o’clock the party were ready to 
start. At the last minute Craig decided that 
he would not go with them. 

“Another time,” he said. “While I don’t 
attach any importance to these Gray Cloaks 
as being likely to disturb us, it is as well for 
at least one of us to be here with Gam Fu. We 
have expensive rifles and fishing tackle, be¬ 
sides a lot of good personal stuff. There are 
the burros, too. Gam Fu would probably dig 
out at the first alarm. One couldn’t blame 
him.” 

“Yes, but you’d be only one man against 
many,” Norton argued. “You could stand 
off half a dozen from inside with your gun, but 
you’d have to give in to a crowd. As for Gam 
it is only fair for some of us to be at the cabin 


190 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


with him. But he’s so afraid he will spoil our 
‘ nicee timee’! He sets up a howl every time 
I ask him if he wants one of us to stay here 
with him when the rest of the bunch are 
away.” 

“All very true, but I’ll stay to-day more as 
a moral support to Gam than a physical.” 
Craig smiled as he said this. “Very likely we 
shall never have anything worse than a swarm 
of blood-thirsty mosquitoes attack us.” 

Norton said no more. He knew Craig had 
definitely decided to stay at the cabin. That 
ended the matter. The boys expressed loud- 
voiced regret at the decision, even jestingly 
accusing him of being “exclusive” and a 
“quitter.” Finally the rest of the outfit rode 
away without him. Gam Fu was more put 
out than anyone else. He was secretly fonder 
of Craig, next to Hal, than of any of the others, 
and staunchly coveted pleasure for “velly 
nicee Misser Claiglee.” 

It was a particularly beautiful summer 
morning and the riders found their ponies 
eager to hit up a fast pace and cling to it. 
Full of high spirits, the horsemen raced madly 
up the tote road, their good-humored sallies 
to one another adding to the fun of the race. 
They came in sight of the bungalow consider¬ 
ably before noon. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 191 


“ Hooray! ” Hal snatched his sombrero 
from his head and waved it frantically. He 
had spied Miss Laird standing on the front 
porch calling out to her brother, who was just 
leaving the grounds on horseback. “ Some¬ 
body’s home this time!” 

The riders urged their ponies to make a 
special effort. The party, weaving hats and 
cheering, rode across the side lawn in sweeping- 
style. 

“Fine, fine!” Brenda Laird clapped her 
small hands energetically together in applause. 
“Roger and I had been wondering what had 
become of you.” She left the porch and came 
out to meet her guests. 

“We were over here on Sunday and no one 
was home,” Hal said quickly. Roger had now 
ridden up beside his new friends. 

“Were you?” Laird showed surprise. 
“We were on a ride—looking up a belt of pine 
I am going to sell. What time were you here?” 

“About three in the afternoon. Didn’t you 
find the note I wrote you and tied to the front 
door knob?” Hal showed his own surprise at 
Laird’s question. 

“No.” The Scotchman shook his head, 
frowning deeply. His straight mouth set in a 
tight line. “Stolen, I suppose. We had an 



192 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


idea some one might come prowling about if 
we went away. It’s easy enough to find places 
to hide around here where one of these cut¬ 
throat rustlers can watch our movements. I 
received an answer to my letter from the 
government,” he lowered his tone. “ It stated 
somewhat indefinitely that something was al¬ 
ready being done up here in the fine of getting 
the goods on these Gray Cloaks. Hope it 
won’t take forever to put the move over,” 
he ended bitterly. 

“Going away for the day?” Kent was 
looking his disappointment. 

“I was, but I’ll change my plans,” Laird 
answered. “I’ll tell you what. I must ride 
to a piece of timber about five miles from here. 
I’ll be back from there by one o’clock, or be¬ 
fore. The rest of the day I’ll take off.” 

“Fine business!” Hal hit Laird an approv¬ 
ing whack on the back. “Norton and Tony 
and Kent are crazy to see the ponies and the 
camouflage. Will you take us over there 
when you come back? And I am all wrapped 
up in Jimpson; some cow-puncher! He’s my 
long lost brother. I’ll tell you a secret. We 
all brought our revolvers. We want him to 
teach us that draw.” 

“Then you don’t want to wait for all that 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 193 


until I get back. Have Brenda take you over. 
It will while away the time until dinner. After 
dinner I want to show you my power plant 
and dynamo. I am silly proud of it.” 

“But who will get the dinner,” Miss Laird 
wanted to know, “if I go away and leave the 
kitchen all by itself?” She put on a tone of 
comic despair. 

“ We’ll all turn in and help you, Miss Laird,” 
Kent rashly promised. “We are great cooks. ” 

“Very well. I’ll hold you to that offer,” 
she said sweetly. 

“We’ll stand by, but you’ll be sorry,” 
George predicted. “Kent is a bum cook, and 
Hal there is no artist. I can’t cook, but I’m 
honest about it. I say right out that I can’t. 
I don’t bluff about it. It is too serious 
business.” 

“He won’t cook, he means,” was Antonio’s 
laughing correction. “He is always far away 
for the cooking, but very near for the eating.” 

Miss Laird enjoyed the boys’ nonsense. 
Her brother’s stern features softened as he 
heard her sweet, merry laugh ring out. He 
was glad of this lightsome change in her lonely 
routine. The shadow which had long hung 
over them, of late grown so much deeper, had 
weighed heavily upon the young woman. 


13 


194 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Any new dodges from our perfect pests, 
the G. C.’s?” Hal inquired just as Laird was 
preparing to ride on. 

“Nothing very new. We found another 
notice—tacked on the back door this time— 
early Tuesday morning. Show it to you when 
I come back.” With this he rode away, 
leaving his sister to do the honors until his 
return. 

The party spent an engrossing two hours 
among the ponies and in the fascinating society 
of Jimpson. Roger Laird had left word that 
Jimpson was to come back with the boys to 
dinner, and the lads gave him the message 
with loud demonstrations of approval. 

“Didn’t know I was so pop’lar,” he said as 
the whooping died out. Nevertheless a 
pleased tide of red had sprung to his brown, 
leathery cheeks. 

Up in the meadow near the bungalow, where 
the light was high, the boys practiced the 
coveted draw and shot at a target under 
Jimpson’s expert direction. While they had 
considered themselves fair shots, they now 
learned a number of tricks about guns which 
would make them more expert when they had 
perfected Jimpson’s teaching. 

At half-past twelve Roger Laird returned. 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 195 


Miss Laird, far from releasing the boys from 
their rash cooking promise, made Hal and 
Antonio help her. This the two did, holding 
their breath for fear of “slopping up” the 
immaculate shining order of the kitchen. Miss 
Laird had explained to them that she preferred 
to manage her house without the aid of a, 
servant, as it kept her pleasantly occupied 
during her brother’s frequent enforced 
absences. 

At half-past one dinner was smoking hot on 
the table and everyone fell to with a will. 
After the meal, as they continued to sit about 
the table talking, Laird brought them the latest 
word from the Gray Cloaks. The threatening 
message was printed on the same size card as 
the other warning he had shown them. This 
time it read: 

“He who defies the Gray Cloaks must take what 
comes.” 

“ Thi nk they are getting ready to come 
down on you?” Norton asked. “I mean, to 
attack you here, and in number?” 

“ Yes, I do. They have a certain amount of 
protection up here. You can’t make me be¬ 
lieve they haven’t. I’ve been going right on 
about my business, ignoring these cards, but 


196 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


I must act now, and soon. You see I have 
only a few men about the home ranch. Those 
with the ponies, and maybe a dozen others who 
tend to growing the winter fodder for my 
horses and a few cows, and who work a small 
fruit and vegetable garden. These men are 
not handy about the house. You see how it 
is with Jimpson. I have to keep him down at 
the pass.” < 

"What are you going to do?” Hal asked 
eagerly. He could only hope for a chance to 
be on hand if there were to be immediate 
trouble. The other boys also showed signs 
of lively interest. 

“Fm going to hire special officers and their 
men for awhile,” was the prompt reply, 
"There’s a good bunk house below the stable 
with plenty of room and cots. There’s a big 
kitchen attached to it with all conveniences 
for quick cooking. They’ll have to be on their 
own. I’ll furnish the grub and pay them 
extra for their trouble. I’ll keep them here 
for a year—longer, if I have to. That’s why 
I’m going to make a quick sale of that pine 
belt I spoke of. I need lots of money for 
operations. I’ve been offered a smashing 
price for it, and by the right sort of men.” 

"A good idea.” Norton was struck by the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 197 


young Scotchman's utter resolution. “You 
may not have to keep the specials long. The 
government will act. It particularly aims to 
protect lumber interests. Besides, it is down 
on these bands of masked raiders; two points 
in your favor." 

“If anything should blow up suddenly, 
couldn't you send us word by one of your 
riders?" was Kent's eager question. “We'd 
come like a bunch of whirlwinds. I suppose 
it will be a week before your specials get here. 
You may need some help before then. We 
hope not. Anyhow, don't be backward about 
passing us the word at the first sign of trouble." 

“I'd send for you," Laird nodded emphatic¬ 
ally, “and thank you. You're a husky bunch. 
I’d ask for no better support. I've a regular 
arsenal when it comes to firearms. I used to 
collect them for my own pleasure. This bun¬ 
galow is solidly built. It lacks only one defense, 
heavy wooden shutters outside. I ordered 
them made at the Williams camp six months 
ago and I haven't received them yet. They 
have a shop there for turning out that kind of 
stuff. I keep forgetting to get after the com¬ 
pany about it. Now I need them, and haven't 
got them. You fellows might have your 
troubles getting in here if the house was under 


198 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


attack when you reached it. These specials 
will come here as field hands. If they came 
as cops the gray hawks would keep off until 
the cops went away. Then they’d begin over 
again to fight me. I’m going to settle them 
once and for all. Their first break here will 
be their last.” 

“Are these specials all trustworthy?” 
Norton asked skeptically. 

“How can I say?” Laird shrugged his 
broad shoulders. “That’s the only point I 
worry over. They’re all sworn into service. 
That doesn’t make them true blue. I’m going 
to ask permission to pick my men. I can pay 
for the privilege. I have a good Scotch eye 
for reading a man at sight. I can pick the 
straight ones.” 

A little further talk and the party went out 
to see Laird’s power plant, situated close to 
the house. They saw the bunk house and 
from there spent the major part of the after¬ 
noon inspecting the home ranch. 

“We must be getting on,” Norton said 
finally, glancing at the fast-dropping sun. 
“We’re going hunting to-morrow and must 
turn in early. An early bed-time makes a 
good sight and a sure hand on the trigger, you 
know.” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 199 


“Why not stay here and go hunting with 
me to-morrow? I can take you where there 
are plenty of deer and often a bear to be had,” 
proposed Laird. 

“That sounds good. Tell you what we’ll 
do. We must go back to the cabin to-night, 
on account of Craig, and we haven’t our rifles, 
but we can ride over here at sun-up to¬ 
morrow.” Norton showed his pleasure at 
the invitation. 

“I can furnish you with rifles, game bags, 
anything in that line. I’ll have Jimpson’s 
pardner, Curly, ride over after supper and 
bring Mr. Craig back with him. It’s quite a 
piece to this hunting ground of mine and in 
an opposite direction to your camp. We’d 
lose time, you see, and your ponies wouldn’t 
be quite fresh.” 

About to agree to this plan, Norton remem¬ 
bered Gam Fu. “I forgot to reckon Gam in, 
as usual.” He explained about the China boy. 

“He can come with Craig and Curly. 
Your cabin will take care of itself for the day. 
Brenda will turn him loose in the kitchen with 
plenty of chickens, mushrooms, rice and 
Chinese vegetables. That will mean a Chinese 
supper for us when we come home. He will 
be all fussed up with happiness. They love 


200 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


to cook in their own way/’ Laird was 
resourceful, and Norton accepted his plan¬ 
ning. 

“It will be a good one on Craig/’ Hal said, 
laughing. “He’ll have to come along after 
Mr. Laird has gone to so much trouble. We 
wanted him with us, but he found a duty bug. 
Now he’ll have to squash it.” 

The Long Trail Boys were jubilant over 
these pleasant new arrangements and vented 
their appreciation in the usual number of 
whoops and yells as they were returning to 
the bungalow at sunset. Supper over by 
seven, they gathered in the large, cheerful 
living room. Norton and Roger Laird were 
soon exchanging stories of life as they had 
found it in the northwest, to which the boys 
listened with greedy interest. Before coming 
to Oregon Laird had spent three years in 
Australia, gold prospecting. He had much 
of moment to tell of that country. 

“Isn’t it about time Craig and your man 
were getting here?” Norton said at last. The 
tall clock in one corner of the living room rang 
out ten. “What time was your man to start 
for the cabin?” 

“Seven o’clock. Yes, they ought to be 
back by now. Curly has a speedy cayuse. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 201 


It’s just about time for them to be here. 
They’ll be along ’most any minute.” 

At half-past ten Hal called out suddenly: 
“I hear horses coming. It’s Craig at last!” 
His tone sounded his relief. He, as well as 
his comrades, had begun to grow a little uneasy 
over Craig’s delay. 

“Yes, I hear them, too.” Norton rose, 
went to a window commanding a front view 
of the grounds. He peered out, searching for 
sight of the three they were expecting. The 
moonlight which had served Hal and George 
in good stead during their adventure was gone. 
The moon was now rising very late and was on 
the way to being temporarily blotted out of 
the sky. 

“It’s unusually dark. I can see something 
moving.” The guide continued his straining 
inspection of the outdoors. 

“Wait a minute!” Laird rose and pressed 
a wall button. A high-powered light suddenly 
sprang up on the porch, shedding its white 
rays over what had been ink-like darkness. 

“Great Scott!” burst from the guide. 
“Laird, come here! Look!” 

Laird had reached him at a bound. The 
others had run to the next window. Advanc¬ 
ing into the radius of the porch light rode half 


202 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


a dozen gray-swathed figures. There was 
something so horrifying in these shapeless 
gray-hooded, gray-masked apparitions of the 
night that even Norton experienced the same 
momentary chill Hal had felt when the 
ghostly band had first dashed into his view 
in the forest. 

“It’s come. Let’s give ’em what they 
need!” Laird cried out, as though glad to 
have the suspense he had been under shat¬ 
tered at last by decisive attack. “Come on, 
boys! My guns are up in the loft! We’ll 
have time to get them before these whelps are 
ready to jump us. They will fool around out 
there for a while, just to scare us. They can’t 
know you fellows are here. If there are not 
more than this half dozen, we can soon chase 
them.” 

“ Maybe they do know we’re here, and that’s 
why they’ve sprung this,” Kent said as he 
turned to follow Laird, who was half way to 
the door. “A case of pegging two birds with 
one stone.” 

“You’d better go to your room, Bren, and 
be out of this,” her brother anxiously called 
over his shoulder. 

“No, indeed; I’m going to help.” As she 
spoke she opened up a drawer of the desk and 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 203 


took from it a revolver. She coolly examined 
it, then laid it on the library table within reach 
and a box of shells beside it. 

“Fm afraid Craig and Gam and your man 
are going to ride right into these rustlers,” 
Norton said grimly. 

“I told Curly to come and go by an almost 
secret back trail. It runs through my prop¬ 
erty and within three or four miles of your 
cabin, but is rougher than the main trail. 
That will bring them in at least a thousand 
feet behind the bungalow. Curly is wise. 
He’ll scent trouble and make no false breaks. 
He knows what’s been hanging over me.” 

They had reached the low-ceiled upper 
story of the bungalow. Laird led the way to 
a long rifle rack. Above it, various makes and 
patterns of firearms were distributed on the 
wall. “Take your pick,” he said, “and be 
quick about it. I want to get back down 
stairs so I can show you the loopholes I have 
fixed in my house.” 

As the armed guard were about to descend 
the stairs a sharp cry from Miss Laird brought 
them into the living room in a rush. 

“Look out that window! ” she cried. “ Why, 
the front yard is full of the hideous things! 
There must be fifty or sixty of them!” 


CHAPTER XVI 


What Happened to the “Gay Gray Ginks” 

** IT SEE where the Gray Ginks are about 
I to scoop in a shock.” Hal swung his 
^ rifle to his shoulder with a smile. 
Outwardly calm, every nerve was aquiver 
with the satisfaction of the conflict to come. 
“Oh, boy! Oh, joy! It’s going to be a walk 
away. These swaddled idiots don’t know 
what they’re up against.” 

“ What we’ve got to do is to keep them from 
getting near the house. Then they can’t set 
fire to it,” Kent said wisely. “Never mind 
how many there are. After six or eight of 
’em get a good dose of lead thrown into their 
worthless bodies, they won’t be so ready to 
do the close-up act.” 

“We must guard against standing close to 
the windows,” Tony declared, his dark, 
picturesque features only a shade less ani¬ 
mated than Hal’s. “First of all, if they begin 
to shoot they will smash the glass.” 

“How are we going to see out of the loop¬ 
holes and shoot, too?” George looked 

( 204 ) 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 205 


puzzled. “ Where are they? You said you’d 
show them to us.” 

“Here they are. I won’t uncover them 
yet.” Laird walked about two adjoining 
sides of the room, pointing out the location 
of the loopholes as he went. They looked 
like a set of ornamental buttons placed just 
above the oak wainscoting. He pulled one 
of these buttons from the wall showing the 
round opening it filled. Each set contained 
two buttons. 

“This is my own idea,” he continued. 
“Now we’ll see how it will work. There are 
nine sets of these, so there are more than 
enough to go round, counting Brenda. Please 
choose your station. When I give you the 
word, go to it and open the loopholes. I think 
these scoundrels will start palavering before 
they get down to business. I will ask you 
not to answer them, if they do. Let me talk 
to them. Of course, after the fighting begins, 
if it does, you may rag them all you choose. 
I wish you would.” 

As he stood fondling his rifle, his deep voice 
quietly giving directions, the boys could not 
but admire his sturdy independence and cool¬ 
ness of head. Had he and his sister been alone 
the two would have got ready just as calmly 


206 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


to do battle against the lawless invaders of 
their property. 

Outside in the front yard no sounds were 
heard save those made by the horses. The 
utter absence of human intonation made these 
sounds seem more appalling. Inside the house 
conversation had died out among the defend¬ 
ers. Norton and the boys were all thinking 
anxiously of Craig and Gam Fu and hoping 
they would not run into the hostile band out¬ 
side. The porch light had long since been 
switched off. Laird had asked Norton to take 
observation at the window now and then, but 
to be very cautious about it. 

Presently even the horses seemed to have 
stopped moving. A stillness fell, indoors and 
out, so profound the besieged could hear one 
another breathe. Out of the silence a hoarse 
heavy voice boomed in measured tones: 

“ Roger and Brenda Marie Laird, you are 
under the ban of our displeasure. You have 
defied the orders of the High and Mighty 
Conclave of the Gray Cloaks. What do you 
propose to do for us?” 

“ Nothing, other than order you scamps off 
my property while you are able to go.” 
Laird’s voice was stern and resonant. It 
could not fail to reach the villainous horde 
outside. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 207 


“ Impudence will not help you, as you will 
soon know. We have the power to run you 
out of this country; more, if we deem it wise, 
you and your sister will be dragged from the 
house, flogged and shot through the heart to¬ 
night. Those with you will fare no better. 
We have no time to waste words with you. 
We-” 

“Nor I with you,” Laird tersely interrupted. 
The mere mention of harm to his sister roused 
a tempest in him. “You miserable, gray- 
ragged trash; you scum of outlaws!” he 
shouted. “The first man who tries a door or 
a window gets a bullet through him, and the 
next, and so on.” 

“You will not be harmed if you will agree 
to turn over half of your lumber interests to 
us, accept a cash price for the rest of your 
holdings and leave the United States.” The 
spokesman was not to be deterred in his 
object. “Refuse and, even though you were 
to escape us this time, which you can not, 
you will both be marked for execution by the 
Secret Conclave. You will find our methods 
of execution lingering and most painful. Now 
choose and choose quickly.” 

“Oh, go take a rest! You make us all 
sick.” Hal had forgotten Laird's injunction 



208 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


to silence. “What kind of gaff do you call it? 
You act as though you’d been born around 
twelve hundred and just woke up. Your kind 
of parties were popular then. You’re all back 
numbers. Come on in, old top. Let me 
show you the latest Yale tackle. It’s a bird, 
believe me. You’ll say it is.” 

For a long moment no reply came back. 
When it came, it was in another voice, harsh 
and choked with anger. “Have a care, 
miserable upstart. Under the bite of the 
lash you will regret your insolence.” 

“You’ve got to get me first. My! how 
fierce we are! You can’t feed us on that kind 
of dope. Better try again, boy!” 

By this time a general snicker was going the 
rounds of the defending party. Laird laughed 
outright. Hal was chuckling at the blank 
silence his latest remark had produced. He 
sobered, happening to remember that he had 
disregarded Laird’s request. 

“Now I have been and gone and—” 

Laird held up a hand. “Forget it,” he 
said, “and tell them some more. I’m not 
good at that sort of thing, but I can see that 
it’s effective.” 

“Wait till they come back at us and I will,” 
Hal made grinning promise. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 209 


After a wait of all of five minutes, the first 
voice again took up the harangue. “Your 
answer, Roger and Brenda Marie Laird? 
Which is it to be, submission to our will, or 
death?” 

“Neither; go to grass,” was Laird's con¬ 
temptuous reply. “I warn you we are pre¬ 
pared to stand you off, and we are going to do 
it. Whatever trouble you try to start, the 
consequences be on your own head. I have 
the law back of me in this.” 

“The law will do you no good,” rasped out 
the harsh voice of the Cloak whom Hal had 
familiarly addressed as “Boy.” “We know 
that you went sneaking to the government 
regarding the Conclave. There is little you 
do that is not known to us. We may say this 
of your friends also.” 

“Don't you talk about us,” Hal yelled in 
pretended rage. “We won't stand such an 
insult. We'll shoot you right through that 
baggy gray cloak and put air-shafts in the top 
of your gray hood.” 

Ping, ping! A shower of glass from one of 
the shattered windows fell into the room as 
two bullets zipped across it and buried them¬ 
selves in the wainscoting. The Gray Cloaks 
couldn't stand being kidded. 


14 


210 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“ Shows off their speed,” Hal declared tri¬ 
umphantly. “See how they blew right up 
when I handed them a few fluffy words of 
josh.” 

“Places a 11,” Laird now requested in reso¬ 
lute terms. “After their third lot of bullets, 
open fire on them.” He had hardly spoken 
when three or four more bullets pattered 
against the front of the house. “One more 
now and we’ll let ’em have it. I’m going to 
flash the light on for a second for all of you 
to take an observation. Eye to the loop¬ 
hole when I say ‘Ready!’ Then swing your 
guns in place like lightning. You’ll have to 
use guess work in aiming.” Laird waited 
until all were at their stations. “Ready!” 
he said, and switched on the porch light. 

A hoarse, vengeful roar rose from the 
masked company outside as the white glare 
struck upon the lawn, revealing some of them 
in the act of firing on the house. They fired 
a spite shower of bullets, some striking the 
window panes; some the heavy boarding of 
the bungalow. Then the defenders let loose 
with a raking fire which sounded in volume 
like the rifle defense of a platoon. 

“Let ’em have it! Reload and fire again!” 
shouted Laird. “They may try to rush us 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 211 


from the back next. The end of this room 
commands the back yard. There are only 
three sets of loopholes on that side.” 

“That’ll be enough,” Norton assured. “It 
divides things almost even. Maybe we can 
chase them before they get as far as the back 
yard. Keep up a steady fire, boys. It will 
deceive them as to how many of us there are 
after all. It will partly overcome having to 
shoot at random.” Norton, having given 
himself over to the fight, was prepared to 
carry it on with zest. 

Again and again the defenders let the Gray 
Cloaks have it, hot and heavy. After a time 
hardly a bullet from outside fell. Laird 
flashed the porch light on again to discover 
that a part of the enemy were hoisting their 
wounded men from the ground to the horses’ 
backs and making off with them. The front 
yard was fast being deserted, but he saw 
something else that made him cry out: “ Three 
to the new station. They’re going to whang us 
from the back of the house.” 

Soon a rain of bullets pelted the end wall 
of the bungalow which overlooked the back 
yard. Tony stepped too near a window. 
His rifle dropped from his right hand. He 
let it lie on the floor as he hastily examined 


212 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


his right wrist. A bullet had nipped Ills 
wrist. It was bleeding a little. Very 
pluckily he picked up his gun and went on 
firing. 

After the first heavy hail of bullets from the 
rear the shooting dropped off a trifle. 

“ Looks as if they were all fed up,” George 
said. 

“And we haven’t even started yet,” Kent 
complained. 

“They weren’t expecting this kind of 
party.” Laird ceased firing, for the first 
time since the opening of the defense, to wipe 
the blood from a little furrow which a bullet 
had plowed in his left cheek. He and Tony 
had thus far been the only casualties. 

The steady, merciless fire of the defenders 
had kept the Gray Cloaks from swarming 
the veranda and endeavoring to enter the 
house by the windows. They were not 
anxious to be shot down in the enemy’s do¬ 
main with every risk of lying there until 
picked up by the police. They wished to 
preserve the secret of identity. 

“There’s a gang of them in the back yard 
yet!” Norton exclaimed. He had shoved the 
much perforated shade a little to one side 
and was peering out. “ Can’t tell much about 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 213 


them in the dark. There’s a lot of moving 
around going on out there.” 

“ Getting ready for another ping at us, 
maybe,” was David’s opinion. “This is 
some fight, but a regular game of blind man’s 
buff, too. One side’s scattering bullets at 
the other, most any old way. Every window’s 
gone to smash. The shades are tough or 
they wouldn’t hold together so well.” 

“I hate to see the horses go down. That’s 
the trouble with this kind of scrap,” Kent 
said regretfully. 

“Some of ’em my cayuses, too, I’ll say.” 
Laird scowled his deep displeasure. “Here 
they come again.” 

A rifle spoke. Immediately the shooting 
took on a fresh spurt. 

“They’re not very keen about it, just the 
same,” David said shrewdly. “They’ve had 
enough and—” 

He broke off abruptly. Outside a fresh 
pandemonium of sound had begun. Yells, 
curses, hoarse shouts of rage, and over it all, 
the constant pop-popping of guns. Some of 
the cayuses set up a high, shrill neighing with 
an occasional scream thrown in. The racket 
continued to increase with every second. 

“For the lore of Mike, now what?” Hal 


214 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


exclaimed. He was soon answered. Above 
the din a stentorian voice managed to make 
itself heard. 

“ Cease firing!” came the command. 
“You’ll hit our men. The lumber police are 
on the job. Switch on your porch light. 
Three of our men will stand for the tail of a 
second where you can see them. There are 
enough of us here to handle these fellows. 
Please stay where you are. It will make 
things easier.” 

The voice ceased. Laird did as he had 
been directed. Only the briefest instant did 
he flash the light. “Right-o,” he said. 

For perhaps ten minutes the shouting, 
fighting crowd in the yard waged hot battle. 
During this time the defenders listened to the 
noise and wished they dared risk going out to 
help the lumber police. Another ten minutes 
and there came a loud knocking on the front 
door. It was accompanied by the same reas¬ 
suring voice saying: “They’re all done. We 
cleaned ’em up, and a fine job. I’ll come in, 
thank you.” 

Laird quickly opened the front door. Into 
the room stepped a big fine-looking man in 
the dark-colored uniform of the lumber police. 

“I’ve not met you before this, but I’m 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 215 


glad to see you.” Laird shook hands with 
the officer. “This is my sister, and these are 
my friends. Without their help I would have 
had a tough pull until you got here.” 

“I'm Lieutenant Jenkins.” The officer 
included the company in a sweeping salute. 
“We received the word yesterday that these 
Cloaks were out and running the woods in 
this section. A special man from Washington 
has been trailing them all summer. I mean, 
finding out who they are in private life. It 
was up to us to get the goods on them. 
Yesterday the Washington tec sent word they 
had planned to attack your bungalow to-night. 
He couldn’t find out the time of the attack. 
I began to gather up my men as soon as I got 
word, but they were spread out on another 
case. I didn’t get my posse rounded up until 
eight o’clock tonight. Then we had a tilt 
with half a dozen Cloaks in the woods and 
bagged them all. That took a little more 
time. Still, we didn’t think they’d have the 
nerve to start in here so early. They’ve been 
sliding around between two and four in the 
morning, as a rule.” 

“Well, you got here in time. That’s 
enough,” Laird said, smiling. “Did you 
capture them all? We thought there must 
have been sixty, smallest count.” 


216 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“More than that. Our big tec said about 
seventy-five. Some of them managed to give 
us the slip. We must have thirty-five that 
my men have ringed in out there, besides 
half a dozen casualties. There are fifty-four 
of our fellows on the lawn. So you see it was 
some fight.” 

“We gave it to ’em hot and heavy, too!” 
Hal was not going to be backward about 
sounding the defenders’ horn. 

“I’ll bet you did.” The officer cast a quick 
approving glance around the room at the 
group of stalwart men, each with his rifle 
still in hand. Miss Laird colored but laughed 
as his eye came to rest on her, still holding on 
to her revolver. 

“I make my bow to your sister, Laird. 
She’s the gamest fighter of all,” the lieu¬ 
tenant said. 

“I thank you for us both.” Roger Laird’s 
rather stern expression vanished in a smile 
of pleasure. His deepest devotion was for 
his pretty sister. 

“Why, you’re an old acquaintance of 
mine!” Norton exclaimed. “I saw you run 
in a gang of rustlers in Idaho at the Calumet 
Ranch, ten years ago. In fact, I helped you 
and your men run ’em in. Probably you 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 217 


don’t remember me. Still, as an officer of 
the law, you ought to,” he added with a laugh. 

‘'Indeed I know you. Knew you the 
minute after I stepped into the room. You’re 
Gilbert Norton, the Nevada hermit.” The 
officer seemed very glad to see the guide again 
and renew the acquaintance. For a few 
moments he and Norton were busy recalling 
the points of the affair to which he had 
referred. 

"Think this set-back to-night will perma¬ 
nently end the Gray Cloaks?” the guide 
asked presently. "What is their history, 
anyway, and how long have they been going 
out on these night rides?” 

"Our Washington tec says they won’t be 
done until we get our hands on the leaders. 
He says the Cloaks are roustabouts largely, 
but that they have as leaders several smooth, 
well-educated fellows who are out for plunder 
in a big way. He claims he’ll have those 
fellows where he wants ’em inside of one week 
more. He’s a wonder in his line, so maybe he 
will. Ever hear of Clarke Hamden? Well, 
he’s the one. He’s not over thirty, but he 
can find out things when every other tec I 
know gives ’em up as hopeless.” 

"What kind of looking fellow is he?” Hal 


218 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


asked eagerly. Could it be that his strange 
friend, the motorist, was Clarke Hamden? 

“Oh, he’s a tall, well set-up fellow with 
right fair hair and—” A knock on the 
door interrupted the description. One of the 
men wished to talk with Lieutenant Jenkins. 

Hal’s disappointment was mirrored on his 
features. The mysterious motorist certainly 
did not have “right fair hair.” Hal could 
only wish that the man he had liked so much 
on such scanty acquaintance had turned out 
to be the famous sleuth, Clarke Hamden. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Gam Fu's Busy Day 

^ 117 ^ must be getting under way. 

%/%/ Something bad must have hap- 
* * ■ pened to Craig, Gam and Laird's 

man. The police saw no sign of them. They 
can't be at the cabin, for Craig would get 
ready and start when he received our mes¬ 
sage. Besides, if he had decided not to come, 
the man Curly would have ridden back—" 

“Well, maybe Craig did say he wouldn't 
come. Maybe Curly did start back alone 
and got nabbed by the G. C.'s," put in David. 
“We may find both Craig and Gam at the 
cabin." 

“You're right. We may find them there, 
O. K. Hope so. Now that the police are 
going to hang around here for a day or so, 
the Lairds will be protected. So we had better 
be getting on about our own business." 

This was also the concerted opinion of his 
comrades. After a hearty breakfast and a 
promise to come over in a day or tw T o, the 
party went for their horses. These had been 

( 219 ) 


220 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


placed in a nearby corral where Laird could 
keep a watch on them. The Gray Cloaks had 
not gone near it. They had had their hands 
a little too full. 

“It wouldn't do any harm for us to trot 
both trails back to the cabin/' Norton said 
thoughtfully. “Say part of us go by the 
short trail; part of us by the long. We 
don't know whether our friends are in the 
woods or at the cabin. We had best cover 
any ground where they may have been. 
David, Kent and Tony, you had better come 
with me over the long trail. Then, Hal, 
maybe Jimpson will show you and George 
and—" he stopped. “No, that leaves only 
three of you to the short trail, while we are 
four." 

“ Jimpson's as good as two men," Hal said 
in staunch praise of the cowboy. 

“Would you object if I substituted myself 
for Jimpson?" asked Laird. “I want him 
to stay at the pass. Besides, I wish to go over 
the short trail to-day. I am very much wor¬ 
ried about Curly." 

“Fine, fine! We like you just as well as 
Jimpson, but no better," Hal answered. 

Thus it was arranged and each little group 
of horsemen set off, determined to watch every 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 221 

inch of the way keenly for trace of the missing 
men. 

“The rest of the gang will be at the cabin 
long before we are/' Kent said as they 
cantered along through the sunlit morning. 
“Laird says the going is steeper and harder 
but it cuts off at least three or four miles.’’ 

“We’ll let out the ponies and maybe we’ll 
make it first/’ was Tony’s suggestion. He 
began talking softly to Hidalgo and the next 
minute was off at a gallop. The others fol¬ 
lowed suit for a very little way. Tony had 
only been in fun. He was first to rein in. 
“It is too bad we have to go so slowly this 
nice morning, but we are on the search, not 
the race.” 

“I wandered if you’d forgotten that,” was 
Norton’s comment. “Now settle down, boys, 
and keep your eyes open for signs.” 

The three instantly sobered and dropped 
their ponies into a slower pace, keeping an 
alert lookout as they went along. When at 
length they came to the familiar landmarks 
near the camp, they had discovered nothing 
which might be counted as a sign of the 
missing men. 

Coming in sight of the cabin, a shout of 
consternation welled up from the four riders. 


222 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


A dense cloud of smoke from the side of the 
cabin nearest them and a familiar figure in 
the act of dashing a bucket of water into 
that smoke cloud told its own story. 

Tony left his pony with a flying leap and 
ran for the odd little fireman. The others 
were close behind him. The four surrounded 
the amazed but smiling China boy. 

“Who did that, Gam?” Tony yelled at 
top voice. He pointed to the smoke cloud. 
“Was it the Gray Cloaks?” 

“Yes-ee,” Gam replied with emphasis. 
“Me havee aw flee time. Misser Claigee 
gonee. Other manee gonee, too. Glay 
Cloakees makee flire this cabin. Me getee 
water; me flire manee.” 

“Craig gone, and Curly, too? Then Curly 
got here safely, A party of Cloaks must have 
come here and taken them both right out of 
the house!” The guide showed utter dismay. 
“What do you think of that?” he said in a 
flabbergasted tone. 

“How did they happen to miss you, Gam? 
Don’t tell me you ran away. I know you 
would stand by at a pinch,” David now 
broke in. 

“Me runee way,” Gam freely admitted, 
a slow color rising to his cheeks. “Velly 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 223 


good me runee. Glay Cloakees don't comee 
here for Misser Claigee. We meetee in the 
woods." 

“Met them in the woods!" was the con¬ 
certed cry. 

“Yes-ee. J Comee the manee from the 
housee you go see. He blingee me horsee. 
Getee allee on horsee; gid-apee. Go long 
li'l dliffee way; not way you takee." 

“You mean the short trail," said David. 

“Yes-ee. So we go; velly hard ridee; 
blump-blumpee. Then comee long Glay 
Cloakees; slix, seven, eight. Them no lookee 
me. Stealee Misser Claigee Airs'. Manee 
Aghtee hard. Me havee no gunee. Me don' 
runee way. They getee velly nicee Misser 
Claigee an' the manee. Misser Claiglee 
talkee me likee this," Gam raised his voice to a 
yell, *“ Go klickee, Gam. Getee helpee. You 
tellee—' No more him can say; chokee 
he by neckee. Glay Cloakees try then 
catchee me. I runee horsee velly fast; losee 
they klick. Comee back here. I thinkee 
wait here you comee 'long. I don't know way 
to housee where you go." 

“Can you beat it? Craig and Curly the 
prisoners of those cut-throats!" Norton 
struck his hands together in desperation. 


224 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Where Misser Hal?" Gam now asked 
anxiously. “He allee rightee?" 

“He and George and one of Laird's men will 
be here soon/' Kent answered reassuringly. 
“When did the Cloaks set fire to the cabin} 
while you were away?" 

“Yes-ee. Comee back, me see smoke. 
Me havee—” 

“They must have had it all framed up to 
split into two crowds. Part of them waylaid 
Craig and Curly; the others started to fire 
the cabin. They certainly didn't get a very 
good fire started. I see smoke only in this 
one place." David left the group and made 
a careful round of the outside of the cabin. 
He was back in a couple of minutes with the 
cheering news that the other sides were 
scorched a little, but that was all. 

“You must have worked like a nailer, 
Gam," he said warmly. “There's been 
plenty of water sloshed on the cabin. You 
saved it, undoubtedly. Don't see how you 
could carry it fast enough from the spring to 
have it do all that good." 

“Me runee allee nightee; allee timee; 
back there; back here. Me come here on 
horsee in nightee. Me see flire and put him 
outee. Then thinkee takee way allee things. 



AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 225 


Me know best is gunees. These takee out 
firs’. Me flaid Glay Cloakees comee back, 
makee more Aire. Me getee gunees, me 
watchee blurrees. Me see nobodee for long 
whilee. Come earlee mornin’. Me think 
better getee panees an’ kettlees out housee. 
These mus’ havee for cookee. Me think hidee 
in woods. Comee outee housee, me caree ilon 
fry panee, one han’; me caree big kettlee in 
other. Me go liT way; comee fast one Glay 
Cloakee on horsee. Him lookee me. Him 
say, ‘Yellee Chinese lat, me blakee you 
neckee!’ Him jumpee off horsee, comee at 
me. Me know him voicee. Me know he. 
Me know him catchee me, killee me hard. 
Velly klickee me flire at him headee fry panee. 
Him putee up two han’s; then kettlee hit he 
in stomlee. Him fallee down; no getee up 
more; no getee up yet.” 

“Fm not surprised.” Norton’s terse com¬ 
ment was drowned in a yell from the three 
boys at the astonishing wind-up of Gam’s 
adventure. 

“ You’re a good scout, Gam, and a credit 
to the outfit,” Kent slapped the delighted 
China boy on the back and then shook hands 
with him. “ Where is this fellow who went 
off to sleep by the pan and kettle fine?” 


15 


226 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


David and Tony were also clamoring to shake 
hands with this doughty fighter. Gam Fu 
was highly elated over his success as a 
scrapper. 

“Him ovlee there.” He pointed to a pale 
gray streak between two huge oaks. They 
started for the spot on the run. 

“Maybe you’ve killed him, Gam/’ David 
said. “Have you looked at him since you 
downed him? You said you knew his voice; 
that you knew him?” Seized by a sudden 
thought, he turned to his companions. “ May¬ 
be Gam’ll have some interesting dope for 
the police.” 

“ Waitee li’l, you see.” Gam trotted nimbly 
to the side of the still, gray-masked, gray- 
draped form. He dropped to the ground 
beside it with a little triumphant cluck. 
Then he tore away the mask. 

For a long moment no one spoke. David 
lifted the hush. “I’m glad he got his. Gam 
was the one for the job. I told you at the 
start that he was no good and crooked.” 

“No-ee; him velly badee manee this oglee 
Nevillee,” the China boy cut in severely. 
“Wellee, him hitee me once; me hitee him 
twlice. You please see him is one deadee?” 

Norton was already kneeling beside the 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 227 


villainous superintendent of the Williams 
camp. He removed the gray hood. It came 
away from Neville's head with difficulty. 
His black hair was matted with blood from a 
severe head wound which the large iron 
frying pan, wielded surely by Gam Fu, had 
inflicted. Norton ripped open the soft collar 
of the gray shirt, took the man's pulse and 
listened for his heart beats. 

“He's not dead," he announced presently. 
“He may have a concussion of the brain. 
That whack in the stomach didn't improve 
his already bad health, either. We'll take 
him to the cabin and tie him up loosely. After 
that, David, you and Tony had better ride 
back to Laird’s with a message. Kent and I 
will attend to this—" Norton cast a con¬ 
temptuous glance at the full, white face of 
the superintendent. 

“Tell Laird and Jenkins about Craig and 
Curly. We must have a posse on the job at 
once. I have an idea the Cloaks' lair is 
somewhere in the territory the short trail 
runs through. I want every inch of that 
ground gone over. These fiends know Craig 
is wealthy. They've nabbed him for money. 
It will be a case of pay over his fortune 
or—" Norton stopped, his lips tightening 
with anxiety. 



228 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“ Would they deliberately kill him if he 
wouldn't come across?" Kent asked. “He 
has nerve enough to say ‘No, and that’s 
flat,’" 

“Those fiends wouldn’t stop at anything. 
They’ll be worse than ever for the set-back 
we gave them. Tell Jenkins to send at least 
half a dozen of his men for this Neville. 
We’re tied up here until we get him off our 
hands. Tell him not to delay in carrying 
out my orders. We must act, and act pronto . 
Craig and Curly must be hauled out of those 
rustlers’ tender clutches within the next few 
hours, and that’s all there is to it.” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Starlight 

I N the meantime Hal, George and Laird 
had taken the short trail for the cabin 
and were also on the close watch for 
straying Gray Cloaks. The territory they 
were traveling was much rougher and wilder 
than that of the longer way. There were 
more gorges and gullies, with precipitous 
and rocky sides. The brush was deeper and 
the bushes and saplings harder to break 
through. The trees were not so tall, and 
they grew nearer together. It took an expert 
woodsman to follow that trail and make good 
time on it, even with sagacious and sure¬ 
footed ponies. 

“We’re making good time, but, oh, you 
trail!^ exclaimed Hal after a while as his 
horse fairly slid down a slippery, stony incline. 
“This pony’s a peach. He knows his busi¬ 
ness.” Even as Hal said this he sighed very 
softly. He was thinking of Starlight and 
wondering where he was. 

“I have some pretty fair ponies. I wish 

.( 229 ) 



230 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


I could spend more time looking after them,” 
Laird said. “This lumber business keeps me 
going every minute in the day. Three dead 
horses on the lawn this morning were mine. 
Tough luck when a man shoots his own horses 
while defending his life and property.” 

“Guess you won’t have much more trouble, 
now that the police are right on the job to 
stay till they wind up the Gay Gray Ginks,” 
George said encouragingly 

“I hope the end is in sight, but I won’t 
believe it until I see it,” Laird returned 
skeptically. 

“Oh, I think those night hawks are all 
done,” Hal said with a positive wag of his 
head. “They may try a flap or two around 
the woods, but we and the police put such an 
awful crimp in their backbone, they’ll never 
get over it. They had a strong pull as long 
as they could fly around at night like a lot 
of ghosts. They’d had things their own 
way right along until we got after them last 
night. Bing! Something dropped.” 

Hal had raised his voice unconsciously on 
the last words. As he finished a high, sweet 
neigh rent the air. Nor had it been uttered 
by any of the ponies the three men were 
riding. The sound came from the left out 
of a dense clump of dwarf balsams. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 231 


“ George, hear that? It's Starlight. He 
heard me talking and answered me.” Hal 
rode straight for the clump of trees. He had 
not more than headed for it when out from it 
dashed a black horse, cruelty spurred by its 
gray-clothed rider. The trio had run into a 
solitary Gray Cloak who had heard their 
approach and secreted himself until they had 
passed. 

“Oh, I’ll make you dance for that, you 
brute!” Hal shouted at the fleeing outlaw as 
he urged his own horse to the pursuit. “I’ll 
show you you can’t put spur to my pony. 
Hey, Starlight! Oh, Starlight!” Hal sent out 
the familiar whistle his pet knew. An 
answering neigh sent him racing on the track 
of his lost horse, forgetful of all else. He 
heard dimly the calls of his companions. 
They were as nothing to him. All he saw was 
the gray figure ahead cruelty forcing Star¬ 
light on. 

“We’ll have to keep him in sight,” Laird 
said grimly. “Come on.” He turned his 
pony in the direction Hal had taken. “Might 
as well have tried to stop a cyclone.” 

“He’s after his pony and he’ll never stop 
until he gets it. I’m sorry for the other 
fellow—not. Oh, won’t old Hal land on 
him!” 


232 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


They had hard work to keep the two ahead 
in sight. Hal had left off coaxing Starlight 
to stop. It only brought the horse severe 
punishment when he tried to obey. He could 
see Starlight was not running his best and 
blessed the pony’s wisdom. Of a sudden one 
of the gaping chasms so frequent in that 
section sprang into view just ahead. Star¬ 
light’s rider put the pony to it. Starlight 
cleared it with a little to spare. Hal un¬ 
hesitatingly followed. Just as his two friends 
came within call of him again they saw his 
horse leap out into space. A half groan went 
up from both men as they watched. Hal’s 
horse appeared to hang on the opposite edge 
for a brief instant. Somehow he managed 
to plant his little fore feet firmly enough on 
solid ground to hold him there for the flash 
it took Hal to shoot forward over his head, 
drop to the ground and seize the horse by 
the rein. He drew the quivering cayuse to 
safety, mounted him in a twinkling, and was 
off again. That brief loss of time might cost 
him Starlight. 

Laird and George had both reined in at 
the edge of the chasm. “No use trying to 
jump this. It is wider than the usual run. 
I don’t believe these cayuses would attempt it. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 233 


They know what they can do. I’m surprised 
Brent made it. All we can do is wait here for 
a while. He will probably come back before 
long; with his pony, I hope.” 

Hal, however, had again caught a flutter of 
gray among the trees far ahead and was hotly 
pursuing his quarry. Gradually he drew close 
enough again to send one clear sharp whistle 
to Starlight. While he hated to do so he was 
afraid the horse would forget. Starlight 
heard. Up he rose on his hind legs and began 
to prance. He would not go forward a foot, 
but continued his upright dance, determined 
to shake off his rider. The man had no time 
to beat him with his quirt, for Hal had needed 
only this brief minute to catch up with 
Starlight. 

With Starlight still doing his upright best, 
Hal leaped upon the fellow and tore away his 
tenacious hold on the pony. He bore the 
outlaw to the earth and the two rolled over 
and over in fierce conflict. Hal’s antagonist 
was as tall and strong as himself. They were 
evenly matched, but Hal was fighting for 
Starlight and this lent him strength. Finally 
the outlaw fairly ripped himself from Hal’s 
grip when the latter was the under one in 
the scrimmage. The Gray Cloak scrambled 


234 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


to his feet. His hand dipped under his 
flowing cape. A long knife flashed through 
the air. It did not touch Hal. He had 
managed to get to his feet almost with the 
other. In his hands w T as a short heavy tree 
branch. His lightning eye had spied it as he 
rose and his hand had been equally quick to 
grab it. He could have drawn his revolver, 
but did not wish to shoot. A daring scheme 
had entered his head which he purposed to 
carry out. 

Smash! Before the outlaw could aim a 
second thrust at him he had crumpled from 
a terrific belt on the head. The tree branch 
had struck the exact spot Hal had aimed for. 
He stood watching the fallen mask for at 
least three minutes to see if he were really 
unconscious. Then he turned to Starlight 
and said: “Well, Boy , howdy! We certainly 
knocked that brute out, didn’t we?” He 
continued to talk to and caress the pony, 
who met him with little soft whinnies of joy 
and nuzzled his black nose in Hal’s hand. 

“ We’ve got to be moving, old pet,” Hal 
soon said. “And now for my great scheme.” 

Ten minutes later an unkempt man, hands 
tied behind him with a handkerchief, denuded 
of his sweeping gray cloak, hood and mask, 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 235 


lay sprawled out, inert, under a huge pine. 
Mounted on Starlight’s back and leading the 
other horse a new Gray Cloak started off 
among the trees. Hal was courting adven¬ 
ture in earnest. He knew he should have 
turned back to the chasm, but something 
within urged him on. 

“Ill bet I’m somewhere near their den,” 
he was thinking. “This is a wild piece of 
woods. Still, I haven’t seen any place yet 
looks like a den or cavern that would hold 
that gang. I guess— Great Scott! Here’s 
another G. C., and I’m not yet over the last 
shindig. Oh, I forgot. I’m a G. C. myself 
now. Wonder what the patter is among 
them?” 

The other Gray Cloak was on foot. Hal 
rode boldly toward him. To his astonish¬ 
ment the mask sprang furiously forward, a 
black-butted revolver trained on Hal’s heart. 
“Move, and you’re a dead one. Get off 
that horse, pronto. 

“What’s the matter with you?” Hal en¬ 
deavored to take on a surly tone. “Don’t 
you know a brother when you see him?” 

“Who are you, and what to the conclave?” 
demanded the stern voice. 

Hal did not answer. He felt as though he 


236 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


had suddenly been stricken dumb. That 
voice! Then it had all been true! His 
mysterious acquaintance was a notorious 
outlaw; a Gray Cloak! 

“It strikes me you’d better put down your 
gun/’ he said coldly. “I know you. You 
know me, too. I helped you run in some 
of your pals on the Natomah road.” Hal 
was too much shocked to carry on the decep¬ 
tion. 

“Great jumping Jupiter— you!” Off came 
the mask of the man holding the revolver. 
The face under it was crinkled with smiles. 
“Oh, you fake!” The mysterious motorist 
leaned against a tree and laughed 

Hal was still on his dignity. He had thus 
far found nothing to laugh at. 

“Where did you get that rigging?” asked 
the motorist wdien he had had his laugh out. 
“I’m mighty sure you don’t belong to this 
band of buzzards. Don’t insult me by 
classing me in with ’em, either. I’m after 
’em neck and crop. That’s why I jumped 
you so quick.” 

“Oh!” Hal experienced a sense of relief. 
He could not disbelieve the straight glance of 
those deep, searching gray eyes. “Who are 
you?” he asked, less stiffly. “The time’s 
come for me to know, hasn’t it?” 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 237 


“Yes, and you're going to know. The 
bean bag's open. I'm Hamden. I have a 
special official name at Washington, but that's 
a secret between me and the United States 
government. I'll say instead I'm a special 
government scout. That’s the truth, and 
there’s the sign of it. And you have to be a 
pretty good friend to see the sign.” He 
threw back the gray cape and showed Hal 
the little silver oblong he had missed seeing 
that day at the Natomah jail. 

“I'd like to tell you the whole story, but 
not now. I know all about what a good fight 
you fellows put up at the Lairds' bungalow 
last night. It’s all over but one thing—round¬ 
ing up the yeggs who got away. I have a 
ticklish job on. I've found their den. The 
left-overs are hiding there now. I'm going 
in among them to find out some things I must 
know yet to complete my case.” 

“Take me along,” proposed Hal, his eyes 
sparkling. “I’ll pass for a Cloak. See that 
horse, the black one? The Cloaks had him. 
They stole him from me almost two weeks 
ago. I met one riding him this morning 
and knocked him out. He's asleep back 
there in the woods. I tied his hands with 
my handkerchief. It was all the tierope 
I had.” 



238 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“How far back is he?” Hamden asked 
quickly. 

“ Quite a way from here.” 

“Then we won't go back. We'll have to 
chance his not getting to the den before we 
do. I sha'n't stay there long. I want to 
hear a certain party speak and get the goods 
on him right. My men are not so far from 
here. They will raid the den when I pass 
the word. Now about you. I don't know. 
It's dangerous business. It's up to me if 
you get hurt.” 

“I want to go, and I'm going. Remember, 
you had nothing to do with it.” 

“ All right. I want you with me.* Come on. 
I see you've an extra cayuse, and that's for 
me. By George, you will make it even better 
by riding that horse of yours. They will 
think you are surely one of them. Now 
listen and learn. The countersign for this 
happy band is ‘ dinero.' That's the Spanish 
for ‘money.' The chief slogan is ‘It's a good 
night only when the work's well done.' 
That's the challenge. The answer is, ' Hard 
hearts and strong arms brook no failures.' 
That much you must know. The rest of 
their wonderful sayings leave to me. Keep 
right tight to me. If you're challenged with 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 239 


anything but that one sentence, say nothing 
but let me answer for you. Now I guess we 
are ready to go on.” 

“Say,” Hal began, then colored and said 
no more. 

“Well, what now? Get it off your chest.” 

“Oh, nothing much, only Jenkins must be 
off. He said your hair was light. He was 
talking about Clarke Hamden and—” 

“It is light,” was the prompt reply. 
“That black top-piece of mine is a wig. It's 
a dandy. You’d never think it wasn’t my 
real head fringe. More about that later, too.” 

“I’m satisfied,” Hal laughed. “Oh, gee! 
I’m glad you are what you are. You had me 
guessing for a while, but no more.” 

The two shook hands, then proceeded to 
adjust their borrowed plumes and get into 
the saddle. They rode along for a mile, 
scarcely saying a word. Hal was trying to 
keep in mind the two sentences Hamden had 
repeated several times to him. When about 
three miles from where they had met, Hamden 
brought his pony to a stop. They had ridden 
down into a good-sized canyon. Its high 
sloping sides were crowned with huge clumps 
of low-growing fir balsams. A few hundred 
feet ahead of them a gray stone bluff jutted 


240 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


far out from the left hand side of the canyon. 
It was so closely tree-grown on its surface 
as to appear impenetrable. 

“ That’s the place.” Hamden spoke softly, 
indicating the bluff with a slight movement 
of the left hand. “It’s a wonder, isn’t it? 
I had to hunt some to find the secret of it. 
You can’t reach it from the top. There’s 
one little trail, a tough one, on the left of the 
bluff. It runs down to the canyon bed. 
I hope this horse can climb. I suppose yours 
can?” 

“He can jump, so I guess he can do that 
bit of trail. I’m sure Starlight can.” Hal 
straightened in the saddle and drew a long 
breath of excited happiness. 

“Ready’s the word then, pardner,” Ham¬ 
den returned cheerfully. “Here we go to 
visit the worst nest of vultures this state has 
ever been cursed with. When their masks 
are off for good, I expect to find every yegg, 
long rider and road agent that has been 
wanted by the state police for the last ten 
years.” 


CHAPTER XIX 


In the Vultures’ Roost 
~~TER an arduous climb they reached 



the platform of the bluff without 


^ having encountered any real Gray 
Cloaks. The bluff itself ran along the can¬ 
yon’s side for several hundred feet, though it 
was not more than fifty feet wide. Hal’s 
first impression of it was that no company of 
outlaws could find room there for themselves 
and their horses. It looked like a bit of rioting 
wilderness, impassable to man or beast. 

Hamden soon showed him differently. He 
guided his horse straight for the matted stretch 
of jungle and disappeared behind a group of 
scrub oaks. Hal, at his heels, then saw the 
way. A trail appeared, wavering and only 
wide enough for one horse. All at once Hal 
choked back a forceful “Gee whiz!” that 
rose to his lips. They had finished the short, 
difficult climb and come out upon a long 
cleared oblong. It was so thoroughly tree- 
inclosed as not to show from any point off 
the bluff. While a few stumps remained, the 


( 241 ) 


16 


242 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


majority of the trees that had once crowned 
that now open space had been taken out, 
root and branch. It was an ideal rendezvous 
because it seemed wholly impossible as one. 

Hal also saw something else that upset 
him even more. Not more than twenty feet 
opposite to where he and Hamden reined in 
sat two men, hands tied behind them. They 
were Hartwell Craig and Curly. Craig was 
looking utterly disgusted and weary. Curly 
sat straight as a cob, his brown, leathery face 
frozen with contempt for his captors. Near 
to the captives burned a low cook fire. Several 
gray-caped figures were bending toward it. 
They looked decidedly human, masked though 
they were, as they fried their bacon and made 
coffee. 

Hamden boldly rode his pony straight to 
the center of the bluff. Hal followed him. 
Before he had time to come up beside Hamden 
a harsh voice challenged the detective. Hal 
recognized it as the voice that had angrily 
promised him a lashing when he had hurled 
back taunts of defiance at the Gray Cloaks. 

“Are you one who rides for a purpose?” 
quizzed the voice. 

“I ride for gain. I spare no one who inter¬ 
feres with my profit,” Hamden answered in 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 243 


tones so changed Hal had difficulty in believ¬ 
ing them his companion’s. 

“Is gold for one or for all?” continued the 
questioner austerely. 

“Gold is for all who are not afraid to risk 
all for it.” 

“Um-m-m-m!” Followed an instant of 
silence. “You there, to the left of our 
brother,” pursued the grating tones. “What 
degree awaits traitors?” 

Hal shook inwardly. Then memory handed 
him a providential reply. “The nineteenth 
degree,” he glibly returned. 

“Correct.” Hal nearly collapsed, not 
knowing what his answer might bring down 
upon him. “Give the countersign.” 

“Dinero,” he quickly returned. To him¬ 
self he added, “It’ll be ‘ Finish’ for yours, old 
college chum with the cape.” 

Apparently satisfied, the questioner marched 
across the oblong and disappeared into the 
cavern. He soon returned. “Order,” he 
loudly commanded. “In the absence of our 
Grand Ruler I have a word for you. It is 
feared that he has been hurt or captured by 
our enemies. He should have been here last 
night. He was not among the bungalow 
workers. He had other important business 


244 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


on hand. To-day search must be made for 
him. Twenty men in fours must take the 
trail. He must be found. Three hours rest 
will be granted before the searchers go out. 
Before leaving here turn over all regalia, 
properly marked, to Francois. There will 
be a meeting to-night at Francois' shack. 
The prisoners will be left here under strong 
guard until their fate is decided. A midnight 
session will be held here if they refuse our 
terms." 

The cold-blooded menace in the final an¬ 
nouncement sent an involuntary shiver up 
and down Hal's spine. Oh, if only he could 
get word to Craig and Curly that help was 
at hand! He did not know Hamden's plans, 
but he was sure that the latter would find the 
way to rescue the two prisoners. 

A new idea had flashed across Hal's busy 
brain. He glanced at Hamden. The latter 
was talking in the queer croaking voice he 
had affected to another Cloak. Hal headed 
Starlight for the spot where Craig and Curly 
sat. He drew rein almost in front of them 
and pretended to look them over curiously. 
He had already seen several masks do this. 
He watched out of the corners of his eyes to 
see if he were being observed. The raucous- 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 245 


voiced leader had again disappeared into the 
cavern. The other masks were now hungrily 
eating breakfast. 

Hal leaned slyly forward and gave Star¬ 
light a funny little chuck under the chin. 
The pony neighed his pleasure. Craig’s 
listless attitude broke up at that familiar 
neigh. He stared fixedly at Starlight, recog¬ 
nition in his tired face. “Buck up. O. K.,” 
was all Hal dared mutter. He passed on at 
once and went back to Hamden. The 
detective had seen and understood the ma¬ 
neuver. He could only hope that no one 
besides himself had noted the swift brighten¬ 
ing of Craig’s face. 

As Hal rode up beside him again, he slipped 
from the saddle and began a pretended exam¬ 
ination of one of his pony’s feet. “See that?” 
he turned to Hal. The latter immediately 
bent down to see. “We’ve got to beat it— 
now. Follow me,” Hamden said very softly. 
He sprang to saddle again and rode his horse 
down the center of the bluff, but gradually 
working toward the point where the out trail 
began. That point reached, he again dis¬ 
mounted and led his pony along the trail a 
few steps, pulling down a green young sapling 
for the cayuse’s benefit. The pony hardly 


246 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


got a mouthful before he was led on to the 
next. Hal was quick to follow suit. Thus 
far they had not been observed. The 
“Terror/’ as Hal privately dubbed the spokes¬ 
man, was not in sight. 

Step by step they withdrew, holding their 
breath as they went. Finally they came to 
the first bend in the path. Once around that, 
they were screened from the close view of 
those on the oblong space. Without a word 
both leaped into saddle and set off as fast as 
their ponies would carry them down the steep 
incline. They listened acutely for shouts 
from above that would proclaim their flight. 
They had disobeyed the decree to leave their 
regalia behind them. 

It was not more than ten minutes, but it 
seemed hours to Hal before they were gallop¬ 
ing down the bed of the canyon. Hamden 
did not stop to talk until they had put a 
mile of deep woods between them and the 
outlaws. When he halted, his first act was 
to tear off the gray cape, hood and mask. 

“Quick, pardner, shed those rags and hand 
’em over!” His round, youthful face was 
asmile. 

Hal obeyed with alacrity. Hamden rolled 
them up in a loose ball, pulled out a box of 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 247 


safety matches and set fire to them. Being 
of not very heavy material, they caught fire 
easily and were soon a mass of flames. Mind¬ 
ful of the timber, he waited until they were 
almost consumed and stamped the last of the 
conflagration out with his feet. 

“Do you think those fellows up there will 
miss us?” Hal asked as they rode on again. 
“I mean, will they get hep that we rode off 
in full regalia?” 

“ I doubt it. They’re terribly shaken up, 
and they’ve lost their main squeeze. Besides, 
they are drinking. They have booze in that 
cavern.” 

“That’s bad for Craig and Curly,” Hal said 
in anxious alarm. 

“ Don’t worry. We’ll have your friends out 
of there long before that midnight session 
begins. My plans are laid. When those 
twenty men go out to look for the Grand 
Ruler, they’ll be met in the canyon at the foot 
of the bluff by a grand party of my men. 
Then I’ll send a special detachment of police 
up for your friends.” 

“Wish I could go with you, but it’s up to 
me to find George and Laird. I caught sight 
of Starlight, and away I went after him. 
They may wait for me on the other side of a 


248 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


ditch I jumped the horse you have over. 
He came close to jumping in, too. This time, 
no flivvers. I’m riding my old boy, Star¬ 
light.” 

“Can you find your way back to that 
ditch? If you can, you’d better go on. 
I want you to take a message to Laird from 
me. Tell him I’ll be at the bungalow to-night 
not nluch before midnight. I’d like you and 
your pals to be there, too. I promise you I’ll 
bring Craig and Curly there as well as another 
of Laird’s men—a fellow they knocked out a 
week ago who’s been held prisoner at 
Francois’. Oh, I’ll clip that old buzzard’s 
wings!” 

“I know the w r ay, and I’m glad to take 
your message. I’m only sorry I can’t be in 
two places at once. Until to-night, then, and 
maybe we won’t have one bully time!” 

A forceful gripping of hands and the two 
had started off in opposite directions. Hal 
raced Starlight over the trail, his heart light 
as a feather. He was utterly happy. He 
had Starlight back again, he had just taken 
active part in another exciting adventure, 
with the promise of more lively doings to 
come. Best of all, the mysterious motorist 
had turned out pure gold after all. 


CHAPTER XX 


The Mystery Man 


ten o’ clock that night an impatient 



company waited in the Lairds’ living 


^ room for the appearance of Clarke 
Hamden, Craig, Curly, and Carver, the man 
who had disappeared while on duty near the 
bungalow. In an adjoining sleeping room lay 
Neville, still partially unconscious from his 
injured head. Close examination had in¬ 
formed Norton that there was nothing worse 
the matter with the outlaw than a severe 
scalp wound. 

Hal had found Laird and George waiting 
for him on the other side of the chasm. He 
had to stand considerable ragging. When he 
had a chance to tell his own story, the tide 
turned. On reaching the cabin for which 
they had originally set out, it was to hear 
more news of a stirring nature. Hal was so 
delighted with Gam Fu’s valorous stand that 
he caught the China boy by the hands and 
pranced him wildly around the outside of the 
cabin. 


( 249 ) 


250 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“The best way to do is to move that bandit 
to the bungalow ourselves,” Laird said ener¬ 
getically. “Jenkins will have his hands full. 
He won’t have the men to spare to handle the 
fellow.” 

“It’s going to be a whale of a job to move 
him/’ reminded Norton. “It must be done 
horseback. There’s no other way. We ought 
to have a very large horse for the job. He’s 
tall and heavy.” 

“I’ll fix that part. I’ll ride back like the 
wind and have Jimpson come over here with 
a big brown horse I have that’s a runner in 
spite of his size. I’ll come back with Jimpson 
and we’ll tend to moving him. It will take 
us all afternoon, but then, who cares?” 

Thus it had been arranged and Neville had 
been transferred to his new quarters with far 
more gentleness and consideration than he 
deserved. Now the anxious company were 
awaiting the fulfillment of the promise of 
Clarke Hamden, that before midnight the 
missing men would be once more in their 
midst. 

At precisely twenty-five minutes to twelve 
a long, cheerful “Halloo!” from outside, the 
trampling of horses’ feet proclaimed that 
Hamden had arrived, and victorious. With 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 251 


one accord the relieved company rushed out 
on the veranda to tender Hartwell Craig, 
Curly and Carver a glad and hearty welcome. 
The boys divided their whoops and huzzas 
between the kidnapped men and Clarke Ham¬ 
den and Lieutenant Jenkins. These two had 
constituted themselves escorts to the returning 
men. 

“Well, who’d have ever thought you’d be 
kidnapped for a ransom?” Norton said half 
j okingly to Craig. His strong features showed, 
however, his joy and relief at seeing his friend 
safe. 

“It’s the last thing I expected could ever 
happen to me,” Craig replied. “I want to 
tell you, I had a rough time and so did Curly 
while it lasted. I never saw a worse set of 
brutes. They dragged me off my horse and 
nearly choked the life out of me. I nearly 
dropped dead when I recognized Starlight, 
and the next minute, Hal. I was more wor¬ 
ried for him than for myself. I sat and 
watched him make that get-away. It was 
pretty slick.” 

“Have you folks had anything to eat yet?” 
Kent asked in concern. “We’ve saved supper 
for you. Gam made chop suey and a lot of 
other fine Chinese feed.” 


252 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


Gathered around a table which had been 
enlarged to its full extent to accommodate the 
party, the five hungry men ate their fill of 
Gam Fu’s excellent cooking. The others 
indulged in an extra cup of coffee, almond 
cakes and preserved kumquats. These last 
are always to be found at the end of a real 
Chinese dinner. As they ate, Hartwell Craig 
related the capture of himself and Curly in 
detail. Carver next told his Story and the 
boys and the Lairds their side of the excite¬ 
ment. 

Hamden was too busy eating to say much, 
though he listened with the closest interest. 
When Norton, however, began telling Craig 
of the knock-out Gam Fu had made, Hamden 
left off eating and sprang to his feet in a 
hurry. 

“Well, I’ll be switched!” he cried out. 
“You say you brought this Neville here this 
afternoon. Let me see him. He’s the man 
I’ve been after since yesterday and couldn’t 
get any trace of. I lost his trail after he 
started away from the bluff. He’s the Grand 
Ruler of the Conclave, and a greater scoundrel 
never lived. He’s had his last fling. He 
started the Gray Cloaks; organized a band 
of yeggs into a real working cut-throat society. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 253 


He made up all their patter and doped out all 
their plays. I got his whole history from 
Black Olaf. I knew a good deal of it, any¬ 
way. Olafs the one that tried to grab the 
wheel of my machine that day. The guy you 
wanted to skin after,” Hamden smiled at 
George. “One of Jenkins , men downed him 
last week trying to hold up a couple of young 
fellows out here on a vacation. So Olafs all 
done. Those other three ginks I ran in were 
G. C/s. That was a play to get me—the 
hold-up on the Natomah road. They knew 
me for a detective, but had no idea who I 
really was. They had been trailing me as 
dangerous and they set out to can me.” 

Part of this long explanation Hamden 
made while standing beside the bed looking 
fixedly at the broad, pale face. The others 
joined him as he stood there, his gray eyes 
dark with contempt. 

“This man’s true name is Bertrand Pin- 
aire,” he said. “ I do not know his nationality. 
He is of mixed blood. He has been a thief 
and a murderer since he was twenty years old. 
He is crazy for money and has lived all over 
the world under one name and another. As 
soon as a place grew too hot for him, he 
changed his name and moved on. How he 



254 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


ever put it over on Williams and secured that 
job as superintendent is a question. He is 
clever, of course, and can run almost any kind 
of business. He had a wonderful scheme up 
his sleeve about Laird’s holdings. He was 
sure he would be able to make you folks turn 
over your property to him. That fellow with 
the rasping voice, you know the one I mean, 
was his side pardner. He’s Wycliffe, an 
ex-judge; thrown off the bench for his 
crookedness.” 

“Were they the only ones of a higher class 
of crook?” David now inquired. 

“No, there were at least two dozen of that 
stripe. The rest were the scum of the crime 
world. This was the biggest thing they ever 
got into and they loved it. These Cloaks 
had pulled off a lot of mischief in a small way, 
and two or three big jobs. They blew open 
the safe of a big salmon house the day before 
pay day and skated off with forty thousand 
dollars. They did several tricks like that. 
Running Laird out was to make them all 
rich and happy. They were to form a stock 
company with Neville as president and 
Wycliffe as vice-president, and so on. Isn’t 
that so, Pinaire?” Hamden had noted the 
ex-superintendent’s black eyes opening and 
fixing themselves on him. 


AND THE GRAY CLOAKS 255 


The outlaw understood. He made no 
attempt to speak, merely lay looking up at 
Hamden, untold hate in his slumberous black 
eyes. 

• “Sorry you didn’t get me, aren’t you?” 
Hamden laughed. “Too bad; you won’t 
have another chance.” 

“I hate you, and him,” the dark eyes 
turned belligerently on Hal. And that is all 
the defeated night rider would say. The 
Illustrious Grand Ruler of the Gray Cloaks 
had indeed reached the end of his tether. 

“I’ll be right around here to watch that 
gentleman,” Hamden said as the party 
returned to the dining room. “He’s coming 
out of his grogginess from the belt Gam gave 
him. He’s not seriously hurt.” 

“He’s tied in bed,” declared Laird grimly. 
“I sha’n’t be sorry to see the last of him.” 

“Nor I.” Brenda Laird gave a slight 
shiver. “I’m glad the Gray Cloaks will 
never ride our woods again,” she said. 
“Everything will be so different, now that 
this shadow is lifted. Roger and I can take 
some pleasure in our estate. And we owe it 
all to you men here to-night. You are the 
ones who have worked hardest and endangered 
your lives to help us.” 


256 THE LONG TRAIL BOYS 


“Only one mystery hasn’t been cleared 
up/’ said Hal. He looked at Hamden who 
was sitting directly across from him at the 
table. “There’s something you haven’t done, 
pulled off that wig and showed us your real 
head feathers.” 

“I’ll do it now.” Hamden raised hands 
to his head. Next instant the iron gray wig 
which had always looked so out of place above 
his youthful face was gone. A shock of thick, 
soft fair hair, cut very short, stood up on his 
well molded head. He looked boyishly 
embarrassed, then laughed. 

“Some handsome guy! ” This from George. 
“Now you look like yourself instead of your 
grandfather’s uncle.” 

The others could not help exclaiming over 
Hamden’s changed appearance. 

“I’ve had this wig ever since I went on a 
certain case in California. That was about 
five years ago. I spent a year rounding up 
one man. Had to chase him through every 
field, ditch and sand pile in the state to get 
him.” 

‘‘A good campfire story,’’ said Tony. “You 
will tell it to us, Senor Hamden, on the first 
night we are out. We are going on a trip to 
California next summer, so Hal says.” 






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